One More Chance
by TheBlackCatCrossing
Summary: A complex web brings two enemies close and neither will ever be the same. In a tale that tests the human condition and endurance one must ask who is at the heart of it all? Is the Joker an inhuman creature incapable of redemption? MATURE CONTENT. 78K hits!
1. Hell or High Water

_Okay so this is chapter one of my second story, yes, story, no more one shots for a little while unless I get the itch. I don't own any characters related to Batman, DC does. I don't make any money off of this, so don't get your panties in a bunch. This will be rated T for now. All reviews welcome. Make a writer write! PS: Keep flames to yourself. If you do not like these sorts of things PM me asking me why am I doing this and I will direct you to some comics that suggest otherwise. PS: I will tolerate reviews like Joe's once in a blue moon, but please, keep that negative energy private. Feedback like that is __not__ constructive and shows all out immaturity on the reviewer's part._

_Thank you!_

Author: MM

Pairing: Batman/Joker

Era/Setting: Think Killing Joke, ADITF, No Man's Land and various other post crisis comics.

Update: Beta'd by Phoenix Skyborne, May 13, 2007

"Rights?! This isn't about rights, Ms. Romero, it's about what is better for the public! Your propositions and endorsements go against what the people voted for! Not to mention the fact that this isn't pro bono!" The ash blonde lawyer roared at the woman sitting across from her. Her hand pounded a fist onto the table with the last remark. Although passionately professional about her position, her tone conveyed a deep resentment towards her competitor as she stood towering over the poised attorney waiting for her turn.

"I wasn't the one who shifted the argument from how to deal with the asylum's revolving door policy to a preaching pedestal, Dr. Larson. You said so yourself that all humans are equally deserving of basic liberties. Well, I do too."

A soft wave of tittering reverberated throughout the courtroom.

Larson stood back and took off her glasses and proceeded to wipe them with the jacket of her navy blue suit. Her blonde hair, tied up in a bun was giving hints of stray wisps. Still, she was able to keep the captive audience at their feet.

"Ms. Romero, you do understand that these people - never mind, _super criminals…" _she emphasized the words, "are beyond treatment, so how many more people are going to have to die at the hands of those mad men and women?!"

"OBJECTION!!!" yelled a man from the third row.

"Sustained," was the judge's only response.

The audience turned back to the two women, dueling, tossing out ideas and thoughts that the greater population of Gotham only whispered about across dinner tables, schoolyards, and offices. Ratings showed that there were more people tuned in than for the state elections.

Dr. Romero glanced up. Her deep tan skin and equally dark-colored eyes conveyed a warmth and deep persistence that had become a staple of her fame. Gotham born, bred and educated with a degree in criminal psychosis with a minor in law, Romero was the perfect foil for Larson, who was a hard-lined, spare the rod spoil the child type whose personal beliefs manifested in her trials and books.

"First off, Ms. Larson, these _people_ are more than the monsters the papers perceive them to be. It's just an easy way out for society to rid themselves of a problem that they do not want to solve-"

"How do you solve a problem like the Joker, the Scarecrow, Poison Ivy?!"

"And don't forget Two-Face, doctor!" came a yell from the back

Low chuckles and shushes ensued. The judge banged his gavel.

"It has been revealed that Harvey Two-Face had budding problems well before he became what he is today, his relapses are no more his alone than Joker gassing kids at a nightclub."

Romero folded her hands.

"So am I to believe that you think that Harvey Dent, Pamela Isley, and Jonathan Crane, all three once respected citizens of the city with respected positions as a DA and professors respectively don't count any more because of their fall?"

Silence gripped the courtroom.

Larson's eyes tensed. Her pulse quickening, but thanks to the miracle of yoga and calisthenics, she didn't show it.

"I don't believe in sugarcoating the mistakes of people, Doctor Romero, I believe in facts. The fact that Arkham Asylum is lagging in its federal public safety regulations and the fact that the Batman is connected to the rise in the number of crimes that his little pets have created are contributing to the moral decay of society. The number of firearms at the hands of teenagers has more than doubled, the statistics in female delinquency have exponentially skyrocketed, and the sightings and reports of assaults and homicides have gone out of control!!! How can you **not** make the connection!? This bleeding heart mentality will tear the very fabric of civilization. There are only so many times a person can say 'I'm sorry, here's a cookie'."

"Your honor! Objection please!" A woman who represented Jeremiah stood up, breaking Larson's train of thought.

Larson folded her arms across her chest, her challenging and intimidating demeanor both a bane and a delight for public consumption.

"Sustained, please sit down Miss Nyles."

Fierce azure eyes tested every reaction from the defendant attorney.

"I'm not here to make friends, doctor, nor am I here with a right and wrong mentality. I'm here to give my view of what is effective and frankly the electric chair or lethal injection will pose more problems than solutions."

Larson walked over to her briefcase and pulled out files she accessed that not even Arkham could have refused.

"Let me remind you of the occurrences that have taken place since this past February…"

Romero leaned forward, waiting for anything thrown at her.

Her image was transfixed onto a small television set in front of Bruce Wayne who was studying the case and scribbling notes on a pad before him. Meanwhile, Alfred popped in occasionally to pick up an empty glass plate or offer his master a new drink or feedback.

"My word, the interaction between those two makes bear baiting seem like an innocent game of cricket."

Master Bruce took a sip of water and leaned back before he responded. After raiding a drug ring and barely succeeding in stopping an extortion rig in the span of a week, his mind and body were exhausted. While recharging, his mind was engrossed in the tube, especially on the blonde and particularly the brunette.

"There are plenty of them like that, it's just that these two were lucky enough to get air time. Not many last."

Alfred piped up, "Oh, how could I forget, Miss Janice Porter, pity the young lady ended up murdered for her love of Two-Face. Makes one overestimate the Joker, doesn't it?"

"His reasons are his alone. Romero has been good with pointing this out, but I have spotted some inconsistencies." Bruce handed his butler two pages of memos he had penned in the last half hour.

"Hmmm, not very many people would catch the design on a bracelet would be linked to an extremist group or a slip of 'lost sheep' as you do, sir. Still, not everyone can wear Kevlar or have the time to sneak around at night picking on nuances of people's fashion sense or slang." He handed the notes back and gazed back at the television. "I say, this meaning of too hot for TV has taken on a whole new meaning for Americans hasn't it?"

Bruce pressed a few buttons on the remote to adjust the set to captions. As much as he hated to miss anything important, he was quite fond of his butler's occasional quips.

"I don't think there's much Batman can do about changing ratings to presentable TV, Alfred, it is more choice than influence, and can't a man watch in peace?" Bruce asked with a smirk.

"Heavens, forgive me sir, but I believe it was you who shared those thoughts with me."

"Hold that one," Bruce paused and pressed the volume. A fragment of a sentence had snatched his attention.

"…live breaking news. I'm here in front of the asylum where an explosion has just occurred in the building's North Tower which houses the high security patients. Investigators say that the bomb detonated at about 4:13 this afternoon near the cell of Jonathan Crane, who is better known as the villain, The Scarecrow."

_Oh, god. Please don't say it. _

"Crane took advantage of the detonation and fled the scene."

"Well, at least you cannot take the fall for Arkham's revolving door policy this time," Alfred remarked as he folded some shirts and socks.

"Also, it has come to our attention that Pamela Isley, Jervis Tetch, and Edward Nigma, all known as Poison Ivy, The Mad Hatter, and the Riddler respectively have all escaped. Authorities claim that the force of the blast loosed and broke the security system enabling them to break out. They are urging all citizens to be wary of any suspicious activity."

_You don't think…_

They both glanced at each other before turning back to the screen.

"On a side note, the only significant member of that caliber, the Joker was injured and taken to Gotham Medical. Doctors say it was a miracle and are expected to have him returned to the asylum grounds later this evening, Suzanne?"

The screen went black as Bruce stood to stretch and walked over his study.

"Shall I prepare your evening wear Master Bruce? I hope you don't mind the yellow symbol this time," Alfred reassured. Bruce stared down at his desk, deep in thought.

"If it's not one thing it's another," Bruce muttered, trying to keep a cool head.

"Sir, if it is too much to say, perhaps they haven't gone far. Surely, isn't Miss Isley usually a resident of the local waste dump…"

"No Alfred, I don't have a choice when it comes to them." A hint of his darker persona was heard in his voice.

"Then I suggest that you take heed and meet the commissioner at the asylum first."

Bruce was about to ask before looking out the window and noticing the signal shining brightly at the evening sky in the direction of Arkham.

Two hours lost.

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Sucking in the tobacco taste, Commissioner Gordon puffed at his Marlboro, waiting diligently. He paced back and forth on the steps with a few rookies scattered about and questioning various members of the asylum staff while squiggling down bits of information that Batman would have tossed aside as 'too on the surface'. More than half an hour passed and more than half of the force left with scattered officers inside and out. Just as he was about to shut off the flashing indicator, a reaction overshadowed him.

"Gordon?" asked the tall dark shadowed figure hidden by the tall fauna on the surrounding East corner of the asylum.

"You're late."

"I'm here."

Gordon took the cigarette out of his mouth and crushed it with his foot. The downpour that had started only moments earlier disintegrated any remnants inside of it letting the fumes evaporate into the atmosphere.

"So what do you want me to do? You want to start a special unit at the dump? That abandoned place at the Narrows?" The middle aged man looked more calm than distraught. The years immunized him, but no one could underestimate the tension that swelled deep inside of him. Not even the Dark Knight.

"I don't think they'll be active for a few days, they might want to stretch out before trying anything."

"I've got specially trained forces to tackle Isley and Crane thanks to your synthesizing the chemicals they used. It's not them I'm worried about…"

Batman didn't have to ponder who Gordon had in mind.

"I don't think he did it." The Dark Knight said quickly. Aside from his better judgement, he knew it couldn't have been that easy.

"How could it not be, he's so twisted he probably fixed something before the place blew up!"

"Joker's not one to fall victim to his own crimes. That one incident at the stadium was preventable. I was there."

Gordon massaged his temple. Trying to be coherent while trying to make sense as to why his prime suspect didn't fit the mold.

"We found scattered evidence in his cell…"

"It wasn't him." Batman himself was unsure, but he felt it was too simple to put the blame on the resident madman, far too simple.

"You're right, sorry. It's just I haven't felt like this since after the quake."

"Did you interrogate Crane's lawyer?" the dark figure asked, his voice latent with tension and impatience.

"Huh? Oh yes, she's clean, shoulda seen her in that courtroom. Larson didn't have a chance."

"I did. Romero is quite the actress."

He found a tidbit that she changed her major from dramatic arts to criminal studies.

"She gave me some things, I didn't think you needed it."

"…"

"So, where to now? What are you going to do?"

Batman leaned back into the shade and turned towards downtown Gotham. He had one more important errand this evening.

"I'll see if I can dig anything up."

"Commissioner! Commish!" A young rookie ran up to them.

"Not now, Rodriguez!" the disgruntled senior barked.

"I'm sorry sir! It's the old abandoned building on 5th and Main, we need a move on!"

Before he could part, Gordon reminded himself it was no use. The shadow that hid before him was gone.

The Batmobile sped off into downtown Gotham. Dead set on getting to its destination as soon as possible: Gotham Medical.

The effect of the breakout earlier today seemed to have an effect on the place as hordes of nurses and doctors made their way up and down the aisles with patients on stretchers and in wheelchairs. Not even Batman was enough to hinder the duties, except for the head nurse who was seated at the lobby. The unexpected guest didn't even have to say why he was here. Using a secret hallway, Patti led him to Doctor Randy Elkhart's office.

_Quick note: I just wanted to give a quick note that I wanted to give credit to Killing Joke (Throwaway Card) for the idea of Joker being drugged and Dark Jester author of The Game We Play for inspiring me to tackle this pairing. _


	2. The Bat and the Clown

**Hello! This is my second chapter, thank you so much to all those who reviewed and have put me on their favorites. You guys rock and a very special thanks to KJ, who s inspired me to tackle a story. As always, all reviews are welcome. If you have any suggestions, please let me know. This is the only thing that keeps me sane between writing papers and reading about oodles and oodles of Ottoman sultans who conquered, added, killed, etc.**

**Updated: May 17, 2007.**

**Beta'd by Pheonix Skyborne**

"Look, look! It's Batman!!" A red haired boy no more than 14 pointed out from his stretcher as two nurses were taking him down the hall. The sizable portion of the hospital had pretty much ignored the sudden arrival of their unexpected guest, but Batman was not without his fans. It was too easy to point out the frenzy, for lack of a better word, that consumed the hospital. The recent breakout from the last few hours had finally gotten to a few Gothamites final nerves.

No one had to wonder why he was even here.

"Right this way, uhm, sir." The edgy nurse gestured the Dark Knight to follow her in what seemed like a hidden passageway through old files and empty offices. "He's not in right now, but I will tell him you're here." She pointed diagonally to a room two doors down across. "I just need to get a hold of some files, Mr. um, Batman, you can wait in there, just lemme get my keys." The poor woman fidgeted as she flipped her collection of keys one by one. She looked no more than 43, dark hair, plump. She was someone who has prepared aggressively to pass anatomy and help others dig through insides while thinking about what to have for lunch. She was quaking and Batman didn't care if it came from the AC being on high or otherwise.

It took no more than a minute before she finally found the blasted thing and opened the door for him, leaving him in the same room with the Devil himself, as she thought. "He'll be right here, shortly…" She smiled as she shut the door, trying to shake off any feelings of unease before walk-running down the hall. Batman scanned the room before setting his eyes on the Clown Prince who looked peaceful while dozing whilst at the same time, weak as a newborn kitten.

That was an understatement, he looked like hell.

Bits of charred concrete scrapped his arms and neck as a result of the blast and his face looked as though he had some blows taken distorting that once immaculate snow faced complexion. His jade curls were a mess. They looked like untamed weeds. He looked absolutely helpless lying there. Upon stepping closer, he studied the vital signs that read across the monitor. They were alarming, his heart rate was low but steady as was his breathing hanging there on the balance like a wobbly trapeze artist.

It's amazing that he survived. Whoever had done this seemed to know what they were doing, but fell short. It was far too easy to pin something like this on the Joker, a complex, warped individual whose fluid mind was far too unpredictable and dangerous to categorize. He defied psychotic. He transcended Madness. Madness was jumping out of the window while singing God Save the Queen. Madness was eating what ever entrails were in the toilet. The Dark Knight stood over his arch nemesis, pondering what could have made him finally fall, or if he didn't fall, but was pushed. Something was really amiss.

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"No, I told you, Rodney, I wanted blue balloons not pink! Hold on a sec-hello? Yes, this is she… Are you kidding me? Goddamnit! How long? Shit. Okay, can I get back to you, I got another call. Hello? Hi, are you okay?" As Romero drove down Spencer Ave, she was unaware of a small red light beaming beneath her seat that created waves that were picked up by a small radio a few miles away lighting up a signal.

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Ten minutes and still no sign of any doctor, Batman continued to assess the information that was calibrated on the machine. Vital signs slowly but surely returned, but that phase him as much as what was going on in his biochemical makeup. Specifically, the amount of iodine which went counterbalanced the amount of iron present in his system. He was quick to dismiss that Joker could have grown immune to Poison Ivy's dangerous concoction of herbs sprayed on him on a number of occasions. He leaned in a little closer to get a better look.

What happened to you? Who did this to you?

It could explain why his physiology was so unique and so frustrating to pin down. Joker was anything but a standard wacko but even this was too much for Batman, who was about to punch a hole into the wall out of frustration when a voice stopped him.

"Hello? Please excuse my tardiness, my patient in the other room; old Mrs. Callahan serenaded me with a story about her last trip to the Caribbean. Poor dear, if only that filet mignon on the buffet would have been nicer to her-"

A fit fella about 30, with dark brown hair and bluish green eyes entered the room.

His merry go lucky nature twisted the Batman's insides who greeted the babbling idiot with an intimidating voice that sounded like rolling thunder.

"Have you checked this man thoroughly?"

Elkhart made his way toward his patient, placing a hand under the chin and turning gaunt face slowly and carefully. Batman was still not at all pleased.

"He seems to have gotten better in the last half hour, there may be a fracture on the spine and we did find some dust particles in his lungs, but other than that he seems to have shaped up a bit."

Batman did not like the sound of these words: Maybe, seems. He wanted a definite answer and these ambiguous meaningless words were testing his patience as his blood was boiling at the seemingly carelessness of the staff member only to start with him being late.

"Have you checked his hemoglobin levels? Have you tended to his injuries in a more assiduous manner?"

Batman's pushiness caught the doctor off guard. It was one thing to hear about the fear that this man, over six feet of muscle, rage, and intimidation in the papers but when it hits you in the face, he's anything but an interesting headline.

"We have, but we still have to run more tests on him, this man is anything but a regular patient-"

"But he's YOUR patient, doctor. And I thought doctors were supposed to follow the Hippocratic Oath or have they changed the spelling and pronunciation?" His tone conveyed a thunderous fury without having to raise it a timbre. Without trying to show it, Elkhart nervously tapped and stacked his notes before answering and taking out a small flashlight to inspect his patient's eyes and mouth.

"I assure you, Mr. Batman, we take great pride in our patients, but do you expect me to turn away the comfort that so many of them ask. Bruce Wayne's father Thomas, stressed that and let's face it, the hospital is a scary place…"

That doesn't mean you piss all over it by playing favorites.

Batman mentally restrained himself before spewing out poisonous words. The doctor was already shaken enough and he did have some merit.

"How long has he been out?" Batman asked, staring out the window, wondering what the others were up to.

"Quite a bit, and good thing to, otherwise we wouldn't have had to sedate him and administer the drugs to inspect him." Elkhart shined the pale yellow beam into the jaws of the madman whose body count rivaled second to none. Keeping his hands at bay Elkhart stretched the thin red lips, noting a pale purple blotch just to the side of his molars. They reminded him of one of those shark exhibits you see at the museum. "Hmmmmm…" he noted interestingly. He scribbled some more. He then took off and threw away the rubber gloves he had just used to inspect the orifice of the Clown Prince. Next, he went for the eyes, once a brilliant shade of green as lush as the paradise of Eden, now as pale as a pastel. The pupils dilated as an effect of the drugs.

"I'll be right back, I need to check with Mandy about his immune system and reaction to some of our other medicines the FDA has approved for rare cases like him."

Wonderful, the Batman thought as the doctor shut the door leaving the two of them behind. First he's late, second, he acts like if nothing is wrong. This tried his patience, yes the Joker was a dangerous sociopath hell bent on destruction until it was perfected in his image, but that didn't mean he had to be pushed to last in line. If anything he should have been a priority as he is in his list. He would have none of it if he had to baby sit him every time he had an accident. A faint, raspy coughing broke him out of his train of thought.

"I thought he'd never leave."

His mental process was perturbed when he heard that familiar falsetto of a voice, but this time it was dry and weakened, not at all maniacal as he had grown so used to it. Batman turned to face his mortal enemy who had arisen from his slumber by stretching a long thin arm and rubbing his long fingers on the bridge of his nose, regaining focus.

"Say, Batsy, did you bring me flowers and candy as a way of saying I'm sorry for all those times we played, or are you just happy to see me?"

Same old Joker, broken, but same old Joker he thought. Batman hovered above his arch nemesis, reminding him who was the more powerful one here. He wasn't here to play games.

"How did this happen, Joker?" he asked flatly, ready to dodge any sarcasm that would come his way.

"How in the hell should I know? I was just watching that movie with whatshisface who runs that anger management school, with that dope and his stupid grin. You call that comedy?!?!?! Sounds like your kinda place," he strained with a cough, "….you should really watch that temper, sweetheart..."

Batman clenched his fists in an attempt to subdue the boiling anger that began to ripple within him. Even bedridden, Joker was able to get to him. The Clown Prince meanwhile began to survey his surroundings seemingly gaining strength as he propped himself up to a more comfortable position.

"Well, what do you know? Is this what heaven is like? And you're my doctor? C'mere, check my temperature, I won't bite."

"Enough, you've been doused with a dangerous toxin, it's a miracle you're alive."

He reached into his utility belt, hiding his hand from sight.

"Really? I don't feel sick," Joker pouted as he placed a thin palm over his forehead, reeking of mock distress. "Say Bats, why don't we order a pizza? If this is my last meal I would like to try that special. The staff at Arkham has been so mean to me, just because I told that newbie to shove it and stuffed a tray down his throat after he called me out in a game of Mystery, and I was playing nice!"

Batman's fuse was incalculable. His immediate reaction to restrain the Joker was taking its toll.

"Stop it, you'll only make it worst on yourself."

"Oh phooey! That's always your problem isn't it? You just never had the balls to finish me or the others off! You and your self righteous bleeding heart ways!! You know you are a real piece of work I tell ya! It's what I hate and -OW!!"

Taking advantage, Batman snapped a pair of bat cuffs on one of the thin wrists onto a bedpost. .

"That's enough!!!" Batman roared, his tolerance reaching its pinnacle. His breathing pattern was slowly returning to its normal rate, flushing out any animalistic rage that dared to breach his sensibility.

"Damn you, Batman!!" Joker squawked. He jerked at the blasted thing but to no avail. The cuffs clanked on the metal with every rattle. "You're no fun!" Joker stuck out his tongue. His foe sneered, growing tired of these childish shenanigans.

"Where's Scarecrow!?" Batman hoped to the powers that be that it would be a distraction, but he knew too well Joker that he would more than likely quip than to cooperate.

"How should I know? Kansas?" Joker hissed, his full strength returning to his frail self. Before either of them could continue, Elkhart returned, bright eyed and bushy tailed.

"Okay, let's see, oh, you're awake? Wonderful." He made his way between the Clown Prince and the Dark Knight. Batman greeted him with a less than pleased glare but nonetheless let him do what needed to be done. It really irked him at how easy going he was. Should have requested someone, Batman said to himself. He made a mental note to have someone on the board investigate this man's qualifications.

"Um, Mr. Joker, are you allergic to any of the following: phyroxytocin, elegabane, ungulacineaphine?"

Say what?

Joker gave him a 'Can you believe this guy?' look on his face. "Doc, unless I have used any of those ingredients in my cyanide pies I would have remembered, but that's as far as I go with sharing recipes. You gotta be original in comedy ya know…"

Batman turned towards him, "They're ingredients found in animals, particularly beef."

Joker laid back. "Hmmm," the clown purred, "Unless someone put something in the chili the asylum served last week, I guess-"

"Because we believe it had something to do with why you were here, there's no time for details for now, but I need you to drink this and here's some food too."

Elkhart held out a glass of what appeared to be a deep wine colored cocktail. The plate which looked like a glob of dark brown to brunt colored pudding was hospital food for God knows what.

"Ooooh, is that cranberry juice? It does help curb those cramps when I'm moody." Joker said sinisterly as he reached for the beverage.

Elkhart pressed in closer. "Here, take it." His face contorted with a look of rushed apprehension, almost as if, he wanted to get this over fast and quick and move on.

"Make me!" Joker challenged. He folded his arms across his chest and gave a deviant smile. Even Batman could not bear his seven-year-old antics any more. He stepped forward as if telling Elkhart 'Allow me'.

"Do what he says, Joker, it's for your own good." Batman scolded himself for sounding so preachy. He still couldn't bring himself not to. He took the drink from his hand, holding it close to the emeciated white face.

"Unless you finally admit it Bats, you're not my daddy! You may hit and yell at me all you want-"

"That's enough Joker, do as I say or I'll-"

Before continuing he saw the laid up jester lean back and convulse slightly. His eyes in a haze and fluttered repeatedly. His body relaxed down onto the mattress before Joker himself collapsed and dozed off once again. Batman stared at the sight, trying to administer what had just happened into his mind. It's as though the Sandman had just dusted the Joker in order to make the transaction easier. Although this was not entirely in his favor, Batman couldn't help but gaze in astonishment and think of the things that were just happening today. He stared for a few more seconds before the queries he had in tow were retorted.

"I put an odorless stimulant, technically a depressant in there. I injected a treatment that would collaborate with another when he came in just in case he would get dangerous."

Batman couldn't help but glower at him. If it wasn't one thing it was another. It was as if anyone outside of Arkham couldn't care for the Joker properly. He was a psychopath, yes, he was the most dangerous man in the nation, but did that itself allow for such, treatment?

"Then what was that all about him being awake?" the Dark Knight growled. Although he preferred the Joker quiet, something just didn't feel right.

"Hmmm, oh, well that was just to see if he reacted as any human being would to regular treatment, and good news: he passed."

He felt a buzzing in his white jacket and glanced down at the light in his cell phone. "Oh, important call, I'll be sure to send someone to watch him, unless you want to do the job, Mr. Batman."

Batman fought the urge to slam a balled fist into his silly face, lessening his grip as he left. Since there was no point in him staying in there, he walked out of the room and down the hall, figuring that there were some important matters he could tend to at the Bat Cave. He owed Dick a few calls, anyway. As he made his way down what seemed like a long journey, he made a turn right. He passed one of the empty rooms Patti and himself had passed earlier only to hear:

"Oh yuck, can you believe they want me to watch that Clown for my shift?"

Batman stopped dead in his tracks, seeking hiding and refuge in a corner, with a utility room just behind him for easy access in case they came his way.

"Ugh, we all have dirty work, Sheila, I remember when they brought in what's his name, the one that always asks you something, Riddler, yeah. Oh man, he was like a ten year old. So glad to give him back to the nuthouse."

Batman's stomach twisted. The disgusting exchanged of words pierced at him, though while he couldn't help but agree with some parts, this was the icing on the cake.

"I wonder what that freak sees in him. I heard she was an intern before she became his moll. Can you imagine sleeping with that?"

Those few words were more than enough. The myriad of thoughts shooting out and canceling each other out like matter and antimatter haunted him on his way to the Batmobile. The perversion of what his father stood for jerked his insides.

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Reginald McMillan, Director of Gotham Medical was jotting down memos later that evening. He took another sip from his giant mug to keep himself awake for the long hours that awaited him. He stood up and headed for his personal restroom. A few moments later he returned only to be greeted by the façade of a man the newspapers cowered over time and time again. Startled, McMillan composed himself.

"Aaah! Well, yes, Batman. We'll it's a real honor to meet someone who cleans up the city…"

"Skip the praise, McMillan, I need to ask you a few questions. Are you fine by that?" The Batman barked.

McMillan wiped a few beads of sweat generated by this surprise. His heavy build contributed to the extra work his heart was dealing with. It was the Batman for God sakes, what was he supposed to say?

"Yes, by all means, shoot."

What else could he do? It was the goddamn Batman in his office!!

"First off, what do you think about the quality of your staff? Do you think they are doing an exceptional job at keeping to their word?"

Shouldn't have touched that lemon meringue pie, he gulped.

It seemed like a simple answer but he couldn't bring himself to say it. Every place has its rotten apples but that didn't mean that a hospital was free from the rules. How could he say, 'why no, we have had complaints but we will take care of it. Here, have a lollipop.' Here he was staring at a man who saved entire cities while here he was dealing with indirect individual cases. What was there to be proud of when a patient died at your hands? What was there to talk about when a sweet elderly grandmother was taken away by leukemia? Was there anything significant when you couldn't do a thing about it? He does it voluntarily and he does it all the time. For a second McMillan pondered if he was dead and if this was Judgment Day that had snuck up on him.

"I would say that we are doing a fine job. I only hire the best and I strive to give my patients the most promising of services."

"How about unconditional attention?" The Dark Knight shot back.

What was that supposed to mean? Checking up on them, cleaning up after them at all hours of the night, feeding them three times a day or as required, talking to them, doesn't that amount to attention?

"Second, what does your policy say about patient's checking out by the consent of a second party?"

McMillan stared up from his desk. He knew that answer but it was so difficult to bring forth in front of someone who saved more lives than he would ever amount to.

"We usually do not do that on the account that family members are not fully aware of the immense responsibilities of taking care of a sick patient." His tone was strong, defiant. He composed himself to respond to a seemingly simple question. At least there were less chances of being contradicted.

"I'm proposing a change in rules, doctor." The steel-like voice left no room for negotiation.

The Director perked up. What was he offering and what were the chances he could he say no? He wondered if the Batman could sense the hesitant moods that rose within him. Don't be weak. In a quick flash, Batman tossed a wad of rolled up bills onto the desk. He gestured McMillan to inspect the contents. As he expected, McMillan unrolled a clean set of hundreds.

"Batman, since when are you so charitable?" The greedy look on his face begged for a quick reprimand.

"It's not for you." He wasn't in the mood to beat the tar out of anyone this evening. "Courtesy of Bruce Wayne, close friend of mine. I'd use that money to prepare better food for the patients, doctor. And hire some new nurses."

McMillan gazed up at the cowled façade, whose slit-less eyes he could feel burn at him. He recalled hearing about Rebecca and Sheila, two young ladies on the second floor he sends to float on other floors when they are understaffed. He had him dead to his rights.

"What do you want?"

Late into the evening, Joker was still dreaming, lying on his side, twitching occasionally. The chain on his wrist rattled. The light from the hallway from the opening door that fell over him did not deter him from dreamland. His frame once again covered by darkness in the form of a heavy shape with pointed ears that stood before him, covering him like a dark blanket.

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	3. Honor Amongst Thieves

**Whew! I just wrote this quick chapter as an intermission. It's short but concise since this will not be the primary focus of this fic. Okay, synopsis: What do Scarecrow, Riddler, Mad Hatter and Poison Ivy have to do with all of this? As always, review me, pretty please? I probably won't update both OMC and HG until after the second week of December, stupid finals and stupid paper have got me all tied up and this financial aid thing is a real pain in the butt. DOH! Oh, well, happy holidays, from CC**.

**Era/setting: Post crisis mostly with loose continuity and basis on Killing Joke, No Man's Land, Hush, ADITF, all that good stuff.**

**Pairing: Batman/Joker.**

**Update: Beta'd by Pheonix Skyborne**

"Why is a raven like a writing desk? What American landmark is constantly going backwards? What name is so fragile that when you say it you break it?"

Edward Nygma, all geared up in his trademark green and black question marked pattern jacket, typed profusely at the screen before him.

"For chrissakes man, get on with it! If you can't even come up with a simple password, remind me then, why are you even here?" Jervis Tetch, AKA the Mad Hatter barked from a broken down sofa behind his fellow Arkham inmate. The place that housed them was infested with dilapidated windows, so dirty it looked as though fog was incessant from the outside, stuff that not even the latest version of Windex would do justice. There were some patches of dried wall paint scraping off. Rat droppings were scattered everywhere.

It was the perfect place.

"Patience, Mr. Tetch, patience, being a criminal conundrum for those pigs in badges and that bat-eared freak is more than elaborate mind traps, you see, what I have here is the latest installment that not even the most skilled of computer hackers can breach. Observe." He leaned in close to the screen. The blue shine reflecting on his pupils like a glowing fire. "Niagara Falls."

A small dot which quickly grew to a small window before engulfing the entire screen formed. A set of instructions were written it. A few seconds later, a small banner appeared.

Account set up succeeded.

Voice activation.

Jervis looked less than pleased. "Fascinating," he added in a dry tone. He sipped from a small tea cup. "Honestly I'd rather play croquet with the Queen than watch you and your silly gimmicks. It would be nice if you made sense for a change."

Nygma stood from his seat, towering over the smaller man in a hat far too big for his stature, making him look like a caricature in some fantasy world. In his mind he was.

"Oh, sweet Jervis, not even your god, Mr. Dodgson was immune to criticism. Not all artistic people are appreciated for their time. An author doesn't necessarily understand the meaning of his own story better than anyone else…"

"Jabberwocky!" Tetch snarled.

"Oh, really? I'm not the one trapped in fairy tale delusions of tea and young blondes in little girl dresses!" The challenging tone in his voice was more than enough to rattle the dwarfed man.

"Gentlemen!" a deep voice rattled from a corner, breaking them of their stone faced demeanor and turning to the source, Greeting them was a thin, practically emaciated man in poor rags. Scarecrow had arrived. "I did not set up this ostentatious getaway for you two to start bickering about the authenticity of a suspected pedophiles work!"

The icy words struck at Tetch, who retained himself and fixed his coat. "Just words from a madman who's only driven to incite rage and suspicion on a classic," he spat.

Crane ignored him. "Have you finished Edward?" Scarecrow sans mask glanced over towards Riddler, who was finishing the final touches on the screen.

"Almost, I hope you don't mind me setting up some accounts on this myplanet site I keep hearing about. Just look at how many _friend requests,_" he emphasized the word and turned over at Hatter, "…our friend Jervis has." He clicked and a page with the prevailing username of Alice with spelling variations and hair colors listed.

"For me?" Tetch smiled dementedly.

Crane rolled his eyes at the sight. "Oh, do what you will Edward, I see that pathetic excuse of a novice's antics have rubbed off on you. Have you two been trading pointers since Hush left town?"

Riddler glared in disgust while tending to the menus. "My one chance at glory and you still rub it in my face? Seriously he's so full of himself, I have no idea what that lovely little number sees in him…"

"Harleen is a good child, just misguided. Though I heard she is available…" Crane trailed off with a look of triumph on his face.

"Are you telling me you've had eyes for her too, Crane?" Edward Nygma tapped a few keys before spinning around and facing Jonathan.

"I saw a lot of potential in her in my special course Ichthyophobia and its causes. She passed. Smart girl."

"Pity, one would think she had better taste," Riddler quipped, not trying to hide his amusement.

"I don't think serenading her with your brain teasers would do too well on the young lady, you should know how women are, Nygma, oops, my mistake, leave that to the Joker."

"Am I late, boys?"

Riddler rose and was just about to snap back when a second voice at the door surprised all three of them. Poison Ivy, free from her Arkham attire and donning her green leotards she was so famous for waded.

"Miss-miss, Ivy…" Tetch shook. Her long fiery locks making her look like the Red Queen of his dreams.

"Easy there, Jervis, I won't bite. Have I missed anything?" She joined their triad, seemingly as though their hideout was incomplete without her.

"Not much, Pam, we were just discussing a certain pasty-faced monster and his grip on poor Harley," Riddler added, playing with his fedora.

"You mean the one who would make Bundy, Dahmer, and Gacey green with envy? Please, I'm all ears." She made herself comfortable and placed her palms on a table behind her.

"I'm afraid now is not a good time, Miss Isley," Crane addressed his colleague. "Time is sensitive and as you can see our friend here is about to wake from the catatonic state I had induced in him a few hours earlier."

Crane pointed to the twitching youth on the floor.

"Fair enough, have we set up the connections?"

"Done, we meet again-?"

"I know a small hideaway deep in Fallbrook Glen, just West of Bludhaven."

"Excellent, will you be joining us, Pamela?"

"Sorry boys, I'm flying solo, I am planning to get Harley out in a few days anyway. Until then, ciao." She blew them a kiss before heading out.

"What a minx!" Tetch choked.

"I'd love to hear about your little schoolboy crush on Miss Isley, Tetch, but save it, I have a few calls I need to make," Crane blurted as he made his way to a backroom.

**WARNING: Next chapter contains sensitive Rated R language and violence. You have been warned!**

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	4. The Dance

_Author's note/disclaimer: I don't own Batman, Joker, or any related characters: DC does. The only ones out of my creation are the two lawyers in chapter one. Don't worry, more cat fighting in the near future, so keep a look out!! Thanks for the reviews you guys, they are very motivating and I know I said I was going to add after December but I just had the itch to write this baby. So no more promises, I promise, okay? So yeah, the basic plot here is Joker throws a final fit before Batman finally gets a hold of him. Rated M for strong language and some disturbing imagery. Review please, even if you hated it. Lemme know, if I suck, tell me why. I you like, please! I'm all ears!_

Era/Setting: Post Crisis, some BTAS.

Lying peacefully, it would have been a real shame to wake him up. Batman usually preferred him quiet on any given day, but like nature, duty called. He made a mental note to tie the seat belts in the Bat mobile extra tight for its new guest. As he inched closer to the resting Ace, he noted the steady breaths and rise and fall of that skinny chest. It was amazing how he managed to escape explosions, burning buildings, bullets, and a multitude of murder attempts. This man was dubbed Evil Incarnate, responsible for a body count higher than anyone could ever estimate and dubbing this mass killing spree an art even if someone's fifty seven year old grandmother was the subject, but now the tables had turned. As calm as he was silent, he measured his next move meticulously with surgeon like precision, and the Joker knew something that the Dark Knight needed and he wouldn't stop until he got the desired answer.

Or at least one he liked or thought plausible. It was almost always one of the two, but he knew it was the calm before the storm and he was prepared for anything.

He did not care for the Joker.

He was merely interested in what happened to him.

He shut the door gently, holding the knob until he felt the door hit the casing around it before turning it back in a careful manner. Ensuring him the security of this privacy, Batman edged forward with intense precaution. The night was still young but for him, it meant hours of wasted energy that he could have spent hunting down the others. Ivy wouldn't be too hard to track down, and he had a pretty good idea where the Riddler or Hatter would settle and he noted a pattern to Crane's hiding places.

Why trade a few demons when you have the devil himself right in front of you?

A black gauntlet reached out for the delicate jaw, studying for any inequities that needed immediate attention. Other than a few vine-like veins and a Mickey Mouse shaped birthmark just below the collarbone, he caught a pale nuance of purple just below the jawbone. Not unusual for someone with his tone, but he'd rather not rule anything out. He needed immediate care and he was willing to do it himself _properly_ if he had too. Under the moonlight, his skin was so white, even the snow that befell on Gotham's winters was never this clear. Joker twitched and made a small noise upon reacting to Batman's touch, letting himself settle more comfortably onto the sheets. An open window to the side reassured the Batman that this would be done quickly and painlessly. With that, he took a first layer of blankets off the Clown Prince.

"Okay, let's see, 181, 182, 183, ahh, 185!"

A voice right outside the door broke the Bat's delicate trance of thought, sending him dashing into the darkness away from the calibrating machines and open porthole just in time to get away from the blinding light as the door open, which was shining on his arch nemesis. A young nurse, no more than 28 made her way inside along with a guest, holding some supplies.

"Hmmm, you figure he would laugh in his sleep."

The short haired brunette nurse whispered nonchalantly as she settled some tubes, needles, and some cotton from her tray aside, ready for administration but not before she reached for some gloves.

"Let's do this quick, I just changed his feeding tube two hours ago and I'll send one of the NAs to change his colostomy bag tomorrow."

"Sssssshhhhh," she whispered.

Could you really blame anyone who didn't want to oversee anything for the Dark Knight's most notorious adversary? They whispered something amongst themselves on how the Arkham staff had balls to do this sort of thing. And perhaps they were right. Imagine checking the tonsils of croc, and no way in hell was a popsicle stick going to do it.

He just wanted the bull to end.

The dark haired nurse picked up a needle, squeezing out its contents letting small drips fall out. She gave a look at the Joker that spelt disgust and good riddance. Makes one wonder how she treats patients when she finds out they're convicted pedophiles? Dr. Thompkins was out of town and all the other doctors were booked.

She failed to notice the fluttering eyes of the Clown Prince, off on his side.

He turned over, making her spill some of the materials.

"You're not Batman!" He screeched.

The nurse gave a startled glare which turned into a full blown scream after Joker kicked the contents prepared for him, sending them flying and spilling on the floor. This was enough. Batman stepped out of the darkness, dodging after him. "Stop it! YOU'RE ONLY MAKING IT WORST!!" He bellowed, and much to his dismay the Joker ignored him. With a mighty jerk, he broke the cuff at his wrist, breaking his arm free and using his free hand to land a clear smack across the cowled façade, which knocked him off balance for a few seconds. The nurse and her aide high tailed it and screamed down the hall for urgent assistance stopping doctors and patients in their tracks only to be greeted by the most notorious green haired, pasty skinned madman most only heard about. Some even had personal history with him.

"It's HIM!!!!" A middle aged hemophiliac shrieked.

"MONSTER!!!"

"JOKER!!!!" Batman yelled.

"Help me!" A tiny voice called in from a room to Batman's right. It was a 16 year old girl and she was having an asthma spasm and her caretaker was nowhere to be found.

"Breathe slowly," he muttered as he searched for a breathing aid from his belt, letting the Clown Prince of Crime slip away.

"I do not like thee, Doctor Fell,  
The reason why, I cannot tell;  
But this I know, and know full well,  
I do not like thee, Doctor Fell."

Joker waltzed down welcoming the frenzied like his own paparazzi. He came across a fifty something year old graying man in a wheelchair, looking feeble.

"Awwww," Joker pursed. "You really should turn that frown upside down, gramps, being crippled isn't such a bad thing, just think! You can get first dibs on rollercoasters or help the bat eared freak fix some computer viruses!" Joker cackled before his eye caught site of three jumbo sized hypothermic needles, swollen with veritable concoctions of god knows what. "Hey, Charlie, what's going on?" Two others joined him and were soon wearing the same looks of helplessness at the murderous clown.

"Joker! DON'T!" Batman barked as he raced down the hall. His cape gliding, making him look like a raged lion about to pounce.

"Where were you, Zorro? I thought you didn't care about me anymore…"

Joker grabbed all three spikes.

"Eeeny, meeny, miney, MO!!"

Three neatly pierced needles aimed at their chests, sending them out of consciousness and hitting the wall behind them. Their bodies giving off orgasm of thunderous pain like hot coals on their sternum, burning at their circulatory systems like a raging wildfire no one could stop. A sudden icy chill swept through the nerves, clashing with the contents making them feel like a drill had whirred its way into their brains. Their screams would put a banshee to shame.

SHIT! Too close, too slow. Batman mentally scolded himself meanwhile losing the Joker who took a quick escape into a staircase. Once inside, the Batman was greeted with a reverberating laugh from all corners. Up, down, left right, diagonal. Damn these buildings! He took a quick leave and raced upstairs, praying that he wasn't too late. He was getting too slippery already.

"Attention! All points bulletin! A patient from the psychiatric ward has escaped! I repeat, stay within your assigned stations!"

A megaphone blared all across the place, doing less than help the state of panic.

"Oh, Sheriff, I do declare suh! Help me!" Joker purred in a mock southern accent, adding a palm across his forehead for extra effect.

Doors shut lpudly, barely missing Joker as he walked down casually whistling to himself. He glanced up at the signs like a curious first grader. He made a face at the marble statue of an angel, St. Helene in the lobby before stopping in front of a window and took a quick peak inside. A collection of sleeping babies lay before him. A predatory look formed on his face. He turned the knob, surprised at his easy access and tiptoed in Tex Avery fashion across the room. He was greeted by a pair of azure eyes peaking out from another room adjacent to him. Her eyes inflamed in terror as her mouth was covered in a protective mask. His index traced his crimson lips. "Shhh!" He quickly slithered out of the baby room and out of sight.

"Sasha! Hello! I just spotted him in the maternity ward! Get in here now!" The woman ordered into the baby monitor.

Silence was all the Bat heard on the second floor, which also happened to be the place to hold people who couldn't make it as he passed a flap with the label MORGUE. He made a quick dash at the corner. Silence helped him concentrate, it was easier to track down the most subtle of hints, but the dead were also silent and it plagued his stomach that he wasn't too late. The foyer seemed as if it was getting longer. Like the alley. It all started on a dark silent night, on an alley.

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"PUSH MRS. Walker! PUSH!!" A Doctor Wellington protested. His forehead festooned in beads of sweat only to be wiped by an aide. His breathing as labored as the woman he was helping deliver. Her face caked with mascara running down her cheeks. The thirty hours of labor taking a heavy toll on her energy to even continue. Her hands squeezed the handles and her husband's hands who urged her on.

"EEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAR!!!!" She hollered. The full exertion of her push only a baby step. He arched back in pain and spread her thighs even further. The doctor was helping her in a seemingly calm demeanor while she was suffering.

"You're doing great honey!" The man beside her murmured through her wispy blonde hairs, as he clutched her palm. She crushed his.

"Shut up pig!!" She squealed. Taking quick choppy breaths before adding force she felt was doing nothing but add chest pains. She felt a small movement within which motivated her to continue. She was dying to see what was going on the other side of the sheets that covered her thighs which were drenched in blood and maternal pus.

"Oh, my god!" A 22 year old nurse's aide exclaimed.

Rita felt something roll out, something cold and wet, and crying.

One more.

Her husband, loosened his grip.

"_One more!"_

With a final breath she expelled the most energy in one shove, finally bringing her baby out into the world. The whole room erupted into cheers. One of the aides took the infant, a healthy eight pounds, two ounces, for a quick clean up.

"Oooooh, just look at the little prince." One of the team cooed. Rita smiled faintly through her pants. The others gleamed as well. "But he doesn't have my eyes, have you been a floozy, behind my back, my dear?" The doctor chuckled, not just a regular chuckle but an evil ooga booga, chills up the spine kind of giggle. Rita gave a dirty look at his direction, quickly realizing the icy look at chalk white skin that surrounded those piercing green eyes. "YOU!!! OH MY GOD"

Tearing off the face mask, Joker, cackled, and sending the other scurrying for their lives with some tripping over cords.

"Sweet Jesus!!!" shouted one of the staff who pointed at the choked corpse of the baby's father. His eyes were bulging out of its sockets and his face into a warped shade of purple. It didn't take a false grin to let anyone guess who was responsible.

"PETER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" The woman shrieked, louder than any labor pain could ever induce.

"Holy FUCK!!" A twenty six year old med school student wheezed at the sight.

"Now, now, do you want to set an example for junior here with such language?" Joker cooed, cradling the newborn in his lanky arms, letting it play with his thin finger. "Hey, Doctor Feelgood! CATCH!!!" He tossed the swaddled tot at Wellington who caught it in midair. Joker made a mad dash toward an exit. It would have been a perfect crime had the Batman not been on the other side seizing the gaunt wrist.

"That's quite enough, Joker!" An animalistic growl spat in his face.

It was not enough to intimidate the clown who had grown used to and quite fond of it. A mass of black with a familiar yellow symbol hit Joker in the face, the Bat glowering down at him like a gargoyle on one of many of Gothic cathedrals. "Oh, god….oh, god….." two of the aids still didn't make it out, too shocked and too many neurons shooting off at once, sending mixed messages for them to do something.

"Says you!" He hissed trying to struggle free out of Batman's frozen grasp which had a better grip than his trademark manacles. Batman shoved him from the doorway and onto a wall outside the delivery room, slamming the pale jester rather hard against it. Joker strained under the pressure, heaving.

"**Stop shaking you lunatic**!!! Do you realize you've been poisoned?!" Batman's voice laced with rage, the kind the Joker did get off of. Upon hearing this, the clown ceased resisting and glared up at the pupiless slits. Questioning, but not letting his guard down. He bit his lower lip, which was encrusted with blood.

"Why do you care, Bats? It's so unlike you..." Joker teased. "Isn't this what you've always wanted, to bring my body to your next Justice League gig as a prize?"

"This is not a game!" Batman barked, his rage boiling over like a violent volcano, intimidating anyone within earshot, while Joker stood their motionless like a brick wall. His deep green eyes under that messy mass of baby poop green hair taunting Batman that he was getting a rise out of it.

"Oh, but it is darling, life is game and you want to be a spoilsport about it by playing it your way…." Joker pointed with his free hand. Batman grabbed it.

"You think you're so funny!?" Batman's clenched glare sending a few specks of spit onto his enemy's face. His heart was going at one hundred miles per hour and no chance in hell was he going to screw up this time.

"This way! I heard him come this way! Code 214 I repeat! **Code 214**!!!"

Batman glowered at the direction of the orders. He reached for a back up pair if cuffs and snapped them on both the Clown's wrists, and see if he breaks his own body parts on purpose. "HEY! That hurts!" The Clown yelped. The Batman ignored him and hoisted the Joker over his shoulders only a few seconds ahead of a SWAT member who stormed the delivery room, scaring the poor new mother at her wits end.

"Chief! Head Nurse says they went this way!" A young trooper alerted his senior and both men took leave at the other direction.

It's amazing what secret blue prints can tell you. Just barely missing SWAT members via secret pipe ways, a small cafeteria, and past the ladies room, Batman finally made his way outside where his trademark vehicle hidden behind old ton and a half trash containers where only a drunk or a bum would find it. Batman tossed the Joker who was heaving, onto the passenger side, glaring up at his archenemy.

"What the hell was that for?! Do you realize patient's rights?! What's wrong with you!!!?" Joker shrieked. Batman hovering over him like some macho centric crazed man. Rain had started to fall on them, dampening any mood for some casual talk. Even by their standards. Joker glared at the Batman who tore a long shred from his cape before returning his attention to him.

"Now you listen to me, and you listen to me good. We're going somewhere, not Arkham, not another hospital, but I need you to cooperate."

That was one of the longest sentences the Clown Prince ever head his Bat say. He didn't know what intrigued him more: The attention or the sound of that voice.

"And if I refuse?" he retorted. Always up for any quips or chance to see him trip over his silly cape.

"I have my ways." Batman answered. With that he stretched out the cloth and pulled it over the chalk white crown.

"Oooooh, is this one of those fun trips, where I deduce where we're going? Okay, lemme guess, I'm going to Disneyland, yes?"

No answer. Either Batman didn't hear him or didn't want to respond. Silly Bat. "No? Hmmmm, is it the Rock n Roll Hall of Fame? Magic Mountain? Do you ever have nightmares about whathisname who bit off the head of a bat, Batsy?"

Batman ignored the quip starting the engine that purred like a large cat. Fire blasted off its end.

"The toxin you have been exposed to seems to be a slow acting variant, so I would suggest you stay quiet to slow it down."

The Batmobile sped off into the evening.

"Oooh, road trip! How fun! Can we play 20 questions?" Joker squealed, rubbing his thin palms as much as the cuffs would let him.

"Shut up."

_Author's note: I was going to add a small scene of a game of twenty questions of Joker somehow goofing off, but I'm too tired, but stay tuned for the next chapter! Please check out my two biggest inspirations Throwaway Card by Killing Joke and The Game We Play by Dark Jester. _

_Good night_!


	5. Walk on Water

Author's note: Oy, sorry for the long wait guys. Finals and family drama on both sides like you wouldn't believe have been distracting me. But I'm back. Thank you all for the kind words, they are very motivating and I'll try to update regularly unless I get carpel tunnel syndrome. I've been catching up on books I bought all quarter as well as some comics/trades such as Clockwork Orange, Heath Ledger mentioned this as a part of his inspiration for his Joker for 2008 The Dark Knight, and so I picked it up as well as Alan Moore's Watchmen and Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. I decided to tackle this fandom after being bombarded with so much fan art, and you know what, it's addicting!!! I strongly urge y'all to get Detective 826, a really good Robin vs. Joker story. As always I do not own Batman or any related characters DC does, so I don't make any money, so this shouldn't affect your little continuity blah blah blah.

Synopsis/summary: Bats and Joker in the Batmobile and who is Scarecrow's mysterious friend? I added this little subplot because I believe that even Jonathan Crane needs to get some ass after I read Mistress of Fear in the Scarecrow Tales trade. Yes, I have a sick mind, you have a problem with that, lemme know!

Pairing: Batman/Joker, Scarecrow/OC.

Era/setting: Post crisis 1985 with occasional nods to BTAS, some movies. Specific emphasis on Killing Joke, A Death in The Family, No Man's Land, Man Who Laughs, and Hush.

Enjoy!

"Yes I understand, but the time is much too limited. We cannot risk exposure," Jonathan Crane sighed into the phone receiver. He clutched at his mask and leaned back at the wall behind him. "Yes, yes, I know my dear, but I'm afraid, pardon me, that we cannot meet again until the circumstances allow it." The Master of Fear responded at the voice in the other line. His tone was soothing, calm, and gentle, not at all his forte' as his disheveled, starved appearance would attest. He peered out at a dirty window and gazed at a small truck waiting outside only to see Hatter and Riddler having a small dispute with the hired help apparently. "No, not yet, but I have something much larger planned. That is all I can say for now." The phone uttered. "The feeling is mutual, love, I must get going now." Crane whispered. Three syllables were heard before The Master hung up. Scarecrow breathed heavily the kind you breathe out of frustration, out of desperation.

"Boss?" A large balding man appeared at a door adjacent to him, holding a large container of rolled pieces of parchment, as well as chemical supplies. The skeletally thin ex professor turned towards the henchman. "Boss, anything else you need, we're ready."

Crane looked around the small room before settling his eyes on the desk, and pulling open a drawer, clutching at a portrait.

"Excellent, that will be all, James." Crane stared intently at the photograph. Studying and touching the front which was hidden from view.

"Boss, you okay?" The short fat man asked his superior. Not at all intimidated by the towering emaciated ragged figure standing before him. It took a few moments for the words to register into the Master's senses. Hollow eyes underneath the ragged sewn slits turned upwards at the henchman.

"James, hasn't you mother ever taught you not to meddle into other people's affairs?" The stern timbre not at all like it was only moments earlier made the porky man uneasy. "Just make sure the tank is full of gas and that we won't be followed. I trust that you found some of those handguns I presented Walter with handy, did they not?" The short red haired man nodded. "Very well and that's all that should concern you, now get out of my sight!" Crane barked. The henchman did as he was told without hesitation.

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"So Batsy, any guesses, shall I repeat the quote?"

For the past fifteen minutes Batman had grown steadily but not entirely impatient with the guest on the passenger side like a father about to loose his grip on his brat in the backseat. Joker's version of 20 questions was no help either. He stopped himself from gagging the blindfolded and bound clown at his side. Endless trivia in and out about Leoncavallo, Shakespeare, and Dante, at least Joker found a hobby outside of murder and mayhem. He made a note to have a check on library material that was available at Arkham.

"How my soul for the devil for a shoulder of mutton though 'twere blood raw? Well? Don't tell me you don't read Bats, you're a smart lad, so you have got to be familiar with some of the classics…."

Batman grabbed the stake shift and making a sharp left before answering. The rain that had begun falling was not making it any easier on the roads as huge drops began to land on the sleek midnight black vehicle snaking its way through hidden passageways he had found on previous adventures with Joker and his kind.

"Marlowe," Batman answered flatly.

He figured it wouldn't help ignoring him and he sought to take advantage of Joker's situation. Joker gleamed.

"Very good!" the Joker purred, his thin hands clasping in excitement as much as they could.

"Did you ever wonder why the clown always got the best lines, Batman? Why does the comedian always present the tragic irony that haunts the deep recesses of our minds? Because he understands all the contradictions, the things we try to hide. He points out all the warts and pimples we try so hard to hide under a tube of cream, or in your case a cape. The way we laugh when presented with our deepest darkest sins, tell me Batsy, what secrets do you harbor?"

They both passed Gotham County Bridge, Batman 'forgetting' to tell the Joker about a sharp bump right before hitting the gas.

"My turn."

The steel like voice responded, leaving no room for negotiation as they passed a deep wooded terrain a few miles away from the manor.

"Aw, already? I was going to ask you which one of my pies was your favorite flavor!" Joker giggled. So much energy in his starved lithe frame, it was beyond even the Bat as to how it was possible unless Joker's screwed up physiology somehow recycled calories.

"What happened exactly 24 hours ago?" Batman asked.

"Hmmm…what did I do after Pammy took the remote…?"

Joker put a finger to his chin as though he was asked a difficult question.

"Well, doc and the gang gave me a slap on the wrist and sent me back to my cell, Harley wrote me another one of her poems, the poor dear. No style, no substance, just the same ole' same ole' achey breaky heart angst! Methinks doctor Arkham isn't doing so well with her. You gotta be original, have some style!"

Batman stared ahead, trying to put the image out of his mind. Joker's latest exhibit was certainly unnerving, he'll never forget the first time he witnessed Joker's work: hundred of dried up corpses with grotesque grins lying around in an old factory.

"What was Crane doing after you were sent back to your cell?"

"Oh, hell I don't know! All I remember seeing is some broad, probably one of those groupie cows you here about. What is it these women?! Did their daddies touch them or were their mommies too busy to pay attention to them because her john cut her pay? Yeesh! You can't change a person I tell ya!"

Joker folded his arms in disgust. Batman caught the sight. He had to admit it was something seeing the Joker with his feathers ruffled.

"You should talk." The Dark Knight added.

"Oh screw off!!" Joker hissed. "You have no idea what it's like having to come up with grand schemes I haven't tried before, come up with a new way to bring people to their knees before they meet their maker while I do the dirty work to help get them there….and I do it all for you."

Batman sneered at Joker's words. His hands gripped at the wheel.

"There is nothing glamorous about you or what you do." The Bat growled. Disgusted, but at the same time not entirely surprised at Joker's confession.

"Then why did you take me away? I thought we were having a slumber party!" Joker huffed as he slammed himself back onto his seat like he had been denied a treat.

"I told you, I don't trust the doctors and Arkham isn't the safest place for you at the moment." Batman turned his eyes back on the road. The rain cleared although the sky still retained a smokey hue.

"So where are going?" The clown asked innocently.

"Somewhere," was all he heard.

"Fine, be that way." Joker gasped. He turned over facing the window. "Wake me when we get there."

The Batman thought about Joker's words. They certainly had some sentiment but he quickly dismissed it as effects of the possible drug he had been exposed to, though the Batman could not deny some element of truth in the Clown Prince's declaration. He pressed down on the gas, the Manor already in sight.

_You play tricks on my mind  
You're everywhere but you're so hard to find  
You're not warm or sentimental  
You're so extreme, you can be so temperamental, Foreigner._

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	6. Gimmie Shelter

Author's note: Ugh, I'm feeling like hell with the constant sneezing and the stuffy nose. I guess dis is what joo call allergies, huh? Thanks for the reviews, faves, and watch alerts peeps, they made better Christmas presents than the sub par gifts in the form of sweaters and caboodles of handbags. But enough about me, you wanna read the dang chapter. A few words before I start, a simple I hate it or I like it from anonymous readers will suffice. It just kills me when I see the number of hits and I can't help but wonder 'God, do they like it?' Dumbledore was right: Gross negligence is more poignant than outright dislike. Roughly quoting of course. Merry belated Christmas/Boxing day out there! Hope you like your present! Love CC

Synopsis: The Bat, the Clown, the Batcave.

Era/Setting: Post Crisis 1985

Pairing: Batman/Joker

Feedback: PWEEEEEZE?????? Anything! Anything! Hell, I'll even take a You suck and you can't write will do!

"Master Bruce, you know how much I maintain my utmost to respect your personal choices and privacy concerning your night work, but sir, is it too much to if I ask what in bloody blazes are you doing!?!?" The usually poised and practical butler bellowed less than three minutes after his master's arrival with the unexpected guest. The usual warmth in his eyes had turned into hot coals burning at the Batman who turned around after helping himself to a small tuna sandwich.

"Not one word, Alfred, not one word." The Bat replied flatly. The coldness in his tone meant no getting around, as usual. The old butler sighed in defeat. Long gone were the days when it easier to parley with a ten year old. "And if Dick calls, give him the usual." Batman said brusquely as he put a glass into the sink casually, not at all concerned about his butler's flighty mood.

"Sir, if I may interject, what purpose does it serve you housing him here? Surely the hospital would have sufficed in nursing one such as the Joker back to health as they have done countless times before." Alfred followed the man he had raised as his own to the den where the ornate grandfather clock waited.

"That's out of the question, Alfred, unless you have a better idea of why I shouldn't watch the Joker." He said as he opened the grandfather clock that led to his study. He never liked this obsessive compulsive nature but it couldn't be helped.

"I suppose you have no desire to save room for dinner I was planning, baked ziti, creamed spinach and steamed scallops, sir?" He glanced inside the inner corridor of the large clock, looking like a large maze into a looming hallway.

"Don't wait up, Alfred, I'll see you in a few."

He shut the casing.

"Oh, bother."

A few what, minutes, hours??

_Days even?_

The sound of tapping keys was heard off in the quiet distance with the occasional sound of steady drips of water from the heavy downpour outside of the manor were the only forms of life acknowledged deep in the alcoves of the cave as the Batman tended to his work which included extensive files on would be leads, old articles from an archive Oracle had provided for him. The latest Catwoman sighting from the Gazette were in the secondary columns. The screen shown brightly on his midnight black armor like a campfire providing him as a source of fire that lit his way into the existence that he had come to know.

He hit a key in which revealed vital statistics and a pie chart with varying colors along with a picture of DA Donna Larson. 8 years post graduate school and a third marriage to one of the most prominent judges in Keystone. It was left little to wonder how her stance reflected her rigid guns and butter ways. In college she started a counter rally for the Friends for Furries animal rights group. She said it "was to curb the blossoming proto Communist ideals of a bunch of perps who think cockroaches have the same rights as humans!" He clicked his pad on a link that would lead him to Arkham's files just before leaning on the quote just to make sure he read it right about Poison Ivy "…..shame how a smart college educated woman uses her assets and I stress that first syllable to make a statement on her one man battle with the Batman….a cross between a hooker and a botanist…."

An attitude that would make Lockdown proud, Batman thought.

He carried on.

He scrolled down searching for more viable information but decided against it after he couldn't stomach anymore jabs on his list of archenemies. He clicked on another page that proved just about promising with the headline

"Ex colleague discusses uni days with hard lined DA."

A few yards behind him on a stretcher like table, Joker lay dozing peacefully, not at all like his animated self only a few hours earlier. He was covered in a pile of blankets that shielded his body from the open and cold atmosphere of the Batcave. Its owner busily copying down names and scribbling down places of seeming significance, unaware of what was going on behind him.

The sample he had gotten from Joker's system looked very promising. Ethanol benzoarate: the compound found was the exact same one used in one of Scarecrow's other fear inducing cocktails. He had used it on Selina before. The lead was very promising. However, there was the question of why. He admitted that he wasn't able to solve this mystery, for now at least.

Hazily, fluttering green eyes opened, adjusting themselves from a deep slumber brought upon by the heavy sedative cocktails that swirled within his unique system. Blood rushed into his brain, waking him from that cloudy dreamland that was cluttered with ideas and images both remote and familiar.

_Comedy_……………..

_Theatre_……………..

_Red_……………..

_Bathtime_…………….

_Rubber duckies!..._

He held his hand to his head. A familiar fire swelled up within him, smoldering, aching to be found.

_Yellow_………………………

His eyes cinched together. It was all coming back, blazing at bursting speed.

_Harley_………………….

_Harvey_…………………..

_Coin_………………………

……………….**Batman**………………….

Joker sat up, his sweaty jade curls tousled, reflecting his rattled and disturbed dementia. He immediately scanned his surroundings. A deep dark passageway that looked like the road to Hell in the low lighting breached his senses. Is this what the belly of Arkham looked like? He jested. The sound of dripping water and flapping wings broke him out of his concentration as Joker turned to the direction of the source. Off from the horizon, Joker attempted to hoist himself to get a batter look of the place but soon found that the pain spraining at his wrists was too much and resorted to propping himself up with his arms and elbows. The Clown Prince strained at the ache attacking him from the neck down. Defeated he let out a low growl.

"Goddamn you Harley" he whispered. This was definitely not the asylum and there was no one around to charm into doing his dirty work. This was so alien

"You're awake I see." A familiar voice startled the jester who found the recognizable pointy eared figure standing, creating a deep shadow over him.

"Try as you might Batsy, you'll never get rid of me!" the Clown quipped. His sense of humor as strong as ever Batman thought as the Ace turned over to his side, facing his adversary. "So tell me, have I died on gone to Hell, or did we both perish in that shootout, and we're now in purgatory?" Joker giggled. He had completely forgotten why he was so miserable. The sight of the Bat had obliterated any shade of doubt only from moments earlier.

"Not quite," the Bat answered, "the blast at the asylum shook you and the subsequent treatment you received I felt was inadequate." He said while folding some sheets on the stretcher Joker was lying on, "…so you will be staying here." The caped figure stood administratively. The Clown Prince was unsure whether he liked the idea or not. But that still didn't mean he wasn't going to have his fun. He scrunched the fabric in his bony hand.

"So…………um, does this mean I get to play with everybody at Arkham? I still wanna get back at ole' Harv for the card game awhile back and do you have a shot of that forest fire from a few weeks back? Pammy will love that!" Joker tittered. Even bedridden he still managed to say unsettling but the Bat quickly ignored the retort and instead, focused his attention on the jester's neck which looked like it needed tending to. Judging by the slight discoloration by the jugular which was turning into a brilliant nuance of purple, it looked like it was receding. He added some pressure onto the delicate skin feeling for anything strange.

"Ow!" Joker screeched. "Do you have to be so rough? Hey!" Batman moved his gauntlet onto his chin.

"Be still, I'm just checking to see if Scarecrow added anything else to his toxin." Neither Batman nor Joker would have put it past Crane to have put a vital and deadly ingredient in his concoction. He specialized in fear but he knew his chemistry and no way would he pass up the chance at getting at the Joker. He thumbed just below the jawbone.

"I hope you don't mind if I borrowed some your plasma." Batman let go setting his hand at his side. Joker coughed, "After you've done it so many times, how could I say no?" He smiled as he made an effort successfully to prop himself up and get a better look at the place.

It certainly reflected the disposition of his foe: silent, deep, solitary, gloomy, mysterious.

He had to explore it.

"So this is your home away from home, I like the color scheme, it certainly brings out your dim nature your so indebted in, and I certainly love your toys!" Joker squealed at the giant Joker card adoringly. "So are we going to play with Spooky, Ugly, and Riddles? Do you have a spare costume?" Batman sneered. It was starting to agitate him at how the Clown Prince had this penchant for twisting the meaning of their static connection like some sort of warped buddy buddy system.

"There is no 'we', Joker, you are staying here until you get better." He had the rug pulled from under him. Joker didn't like the sound of his answer and gave the Bat a glare.

"And what happens after I do? What if I don't?"

"That's entirely up to you."

The caped figure answered. His short choppy responses getting the better of him but in his current physical state there wasn't much he could do, for the moment at least.

Joker huffed back down like a seven year old boy being denied a toy and crossed his thin arms.

"Boy you sure know how to dampen the mood, Batsy! Is this how you treat your house guests?" Joker hissed. His preteen moods had barely shaken the Batman which was more maddening for the harlequin who prided himself on bringing him to his knees. Standing over him like a statue only served for more aggravation.

"You need rest so I suggest that you simmer down." Batman hushed. The words hit the Joker like an anvil. He wasn't about to take anything from someone he has tormented for so long. He couldn't tell whether he was upset because the Bat was paying attention to him or throw another fit because it was all out of reach thanks to that undernourished pile of rags, Crane!

"Really, and I suppose you'll be providing the luxury of pampering me instead of leaving me in a cheap motel to rot?" Joker beamed, not letting his weaknesses show.

"Correct," The Dark Knight replied. He glanced at and nodded at a corner not to far off where they were standing. "There."

Joker turned around at the direction Batman was referring to only to set his eyes upon what looked like a cage, but upon closer inspection it was clearly a 15 by 20 foot dwelling complete with a small bed, a bucket with water, and another empty container off to the side. Not much different from the one he had at Arkham sans faucet with thick bars separated every four inches.

"In there?" Joker asked incredulously, pointing.

"That's right."

Joker's acidic eyes tensed at the white slits before him. It was one thing to be playing mind games that resulted in broken bones and a black eye that took him back to the asylum but to be ordered around in such a manner was not something he would ever submit to, not even in the presence of the Bat and in pain.

"Who do you think you are?!" The clown shrieked.

"You're on no position to negotiate with me, Joker, so why don't you make it easier on yourself and-"

But before he could continue, he was quickly cut off by the piercing falsetto of the quivering jester. "YOU CAN'T LOCK ME UP LIKE SOME COMMON ANIMAL!!"

The screams sent a fury of Bats scrambling out of their hidden corners and fluttered out, sending high pitched squeaks throughout the cave.

"You can't do this to me!!! Yes I am aware of all the nasty tricks I pulled but even Doc Arkham let's me play Mick and Keith whenever I wish!!"

"You're under MY control Joker!" Batman barked, his tolerance breaching new levels.

"And in my opinion, Jeremiah didn't do enough!" He took the Joker and placed him over his shoulder like a rag doll, ignoring the pathetic punches Joker gave on his back. "Lemme go you big oaf!! I have rights to ya know!!"

"You lost your rights a long time ago, Joker!" Batman growled. He knew it wouldn't be easy to subdue the Joker, who was now struggling profusely on his shoulders.

"Stop it! You're only making it difficult for yourself!" Batman growled as he set the Joker down. Joker stared up at his foe, towering over him by at least half a foot. He didn't let the Bat who clearly had three times his muscle mass intimidate him.

"It's all about you isn't it?!?! You only want things done your way, don't you! You categorize someone and that gives you justification for treating them a certain way, isn't it hmm? Well let me tell you something, BATMAN! What are you doing?!"

Batman was at the doorstep of the cell, holding a small key in his hand.

"I've decided I've had enough of your little tantrum. You need anything, just ring this."

He set down a small bell down at the foot of the door. He was just about to close the door before Joker started again. "HOW DARE YOU!" Joker hissed. His emotions flying like dragon's fire. He couldn't believe how the Bat was disregarding him like nothing.

"When you're ready to cooperate, I'll listen." Batman said with satisfaction. Having the Joker under his thumb gave him a sort of rare guilty pleasure he had never really relished.

"But I have!!! I told you I don't know where Crane is, as for Eddie and Hatboy, they could be trading arms in Iran or runway modeling for all I know!" Joker shook at the bars to no avail. He had barely noticed the small smirk, forming on the Bat's mouth before he quickly turned back towards the computer.

A smile.

On the Batman?

"BATMAN!"

The Dark Knight turned back, glaring at the Clown Prince, cowering. It was a pitiful and pathetic sight all right, but his mind was dead set and he made his way towards the computer before letting old memories of personal nature get the better of him.

"Please?" Joker asked weakly.

The Batman ignored the rant and continued his way towards the computer, acting as if the tirade hadn't happened. Joker let out a heavy sigh before settling himself down onto the small bed, curling up into a fetal position, wondering at the days that lay ahead.

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	7. Deeper and deeper

**Author's note: Happy New Year! I wanted to type this puppy after some family drama and wanted to work on something to make me feel better about myself, NYAH! Thank you all so much for the kind words, I am absolutely flabbergasted at the number of reviews from my last chapter, I hope you will enjoy this latest. A word of caution, if you do not like these sort of pairings, click refresh and be on your merry way. If you think I'm polluting the image of the Dark Knight, need I remind you the immortal words of the great (but very overrated Frank Miller): "In a way, he (Joker) is a homophobic nightmare (to Batman)", but because of freedom of speech and my little evil heart's desire to see these two come alive I decided to go even further. I can site several examples of authentic Joker to Batman attraction, along the lines of Spike and Angel from Buffy but I will be nice. As always, enjoy the show!**

Era/setting: Post Crisis 1985

Pairing: Batman/Joker

Feedback: Only if you want me to continue (In John Walsh voice from America's Most Wanted voice ) "And remember, you can remain anonymous…"

He jiggled the flask gently, studying the liquid contents turn from a brilliant shade of lime green to almost crystal white before setting it down at his desk, jotting down a few notes for future reference. The Batman occupied himself for the last few hours getting acquainted with the chemistry of the sample taken from Joker's biology, marveling to himself at how his immune system had made him a force to be reconciled with. He survived exploding helicopters, several bullets, and broken body parts thought to be beyond repair. But nature did not have her parents taken by two bullets on a dark alley at age ten. Nature was cruel, unkind, and unpredictable. Nature didn't care whether or not your parents offered unconditional love or believe in principles that defined the inner core of being, the drive. Nor did it care for the idea of saving lives, it just didn't fit the mold of the ebb and flow people call life. Nature was cruel and dark, and he was the light, a source in this existence that would do well without the likes of Joker, Two Face, Scarecrow and like. But with life comes challenge, the first breath after birth is the first exposure to stones being cast are way and we meet them every step onward. Batman sat back in his chair, deep in thought.

The Romans believed that do be free from feeling and passion was to reach the pinnacle of the human experience. They believed that to be free from emotion and to be rational was the only way to reach the sought after prize of humanity: peace, placidity. Something that he would never have.

We are born, we eat, we meet, mate, grow old, and die. Where did the role of a superhero fit in when the inevitable comes into play? Did that mean that superheroes delay the process? In the Batman's world, time is precious, when looking for clues, the micro inequities that didn't fit into place even when making sense of something as trivial as why the Joker shot himself in the foot for the three hundred and eighty ninth time was at stake. It was too easy to pin this as a ploy on the Joker's part. He couldn't have purposely hurt himself to get his attention, but then what options do you have when the Joker thrives on being loud

The pointy eared figure glanced back at the confine he had set up originally used to store the essentials he used on his midnight patrols for easier storage and access which now served as the holding place for the Clown Prince: mace, gas, and the like, but nothing lethal.

So the Batman finally caught the white rabbit, now the only question remained was what to do with him.

He had heard not so much as a peep from someone he had associated with having a motor mouth, and thank God for that. It allowed him to work without disruption while having some control over the chaos that ran amuck which was quiet for now in the city. He put on a set of earphones and adjusted some settings at his computer, which then he was greeted with a dial tone.

"Hello?" A female voice answered, about 27.

"It's me," he replied swiftly. The Bat had no time for simple greetings.

"Hey, what's up?"

Oracle responded, still as quirky and lively as when she donned the cape and cowl at his side.

"I need you to tell me where I can find the Jade Jester." His barked orders cut like a steel knife.

"You mean the bar or the manufacturing company?" Oracle quipped as she typed while gazing up at the giant screen before her presenting her with a myriad of possibilities until the Batman ordered for the latter.

"Huh, so they started franchising, they serve the best margaritas up in Keystone."

"They specialize in making antitoxins with strict government surveillance. Their license expired in 1997, I want to know if they are still operating."

The Batman tapped a few more keys that presented him with a large blueprint of the city, surveying for any suspicious activity in the last twenty four hours. Nothing insofar suspicious with the exception of a few skipped red lights in empty streets.

"There was a shipment made two weeks ago."

"Any sighting on the vehicle?" the Dark Knight asked brusquely.

"White pickup truck, no license," Barbara responded, her sense of detection as keen as his before her paralyzation. Even as the once graceful Batgirl, the tragedy in her life was nothing short of ironic. If anything, the Joker made her a better detective without the use of her lower body.

"Any leads on who the driver was?"

Barbara's description of a medium build, scraggly haired man in his mid 40s meant it could have been anyone, but this was all the Dark Knight needed.

"So, how's it going with the search?" Barbara asked casually, not afraid of the moody rebuffs usually associated with her mentor.

"I'm getting by," was all the Batman said trying not to let too much slip out. The rogues at large weren't into the whole element of surprise thing but they weren't shy when giving the Batman a clue and fortunately for now, there was no need.

"Good to hear, hey, I wanted to ask if you were going to that dinner next week?"

There was a gala next Wednesday night in honor of the most influential people of Gotham. Apparently, the small screens leading ladies were invited as well as other, better deserving honorees.

"Have you seen those two on TV? Talk about MEOW!"

"Over."

He clicked and the connection died and quickly continued his feverish quest. He had no time for mindless chit chat but had been giving it serious pause for thought. His friend Lucius Fox was runner up for his work in finances and humanitarian connections to Wayne Foundations. Perhaps there was something that Bruce Wayne could do to charm anything out of Miss Romero or her rival.

The world news didn't do much to enlighten:

_Former dictator trialed and convicted for acts against humanity is executed…._

_Violence rises in civil war torn African nation…._

_Pope and Vatican stand by birth control position. _

_Sex selection in embryos creates heated debate._

He typed quickly and clicked the pad where the screen had led him to Gotham University's homepage. He successfully hacked into the computer system enabling him to get into the student files, searching incessantly until he found the dossier he was looking for. The information presented within it was not insufficiently invaluable but did have some significant bits here and there about the academic and personal history of Elena Julia Romero. Apparently she came to the states at a young ago due to civil wars in her native country. She majored in English in order to accommodate into society for some time before setting her sights on clinical therapy, which opened her world to psychiatry. A master's in law was not far behind. Her personal statement claimed of being bullied due to her bony appearance as a ten year old. Her family values were seen in her ethics and trials as a rookie paralegal. Case after successful case earned her points in the city's federal district. If only Harley Quinn's resume was this impressive.

After a few more searches, the Bat felt it was time to turn in. He shut off the system that connected him to the underworld with only a steady buzz somewhere off in the background in its wake. Sometime during the night, Alfred brought down some of this evening's fare in a plastic container. Bruce hadn't helped himself at all and wasn't about to in front of the Joker who lay in his cell bedraggled, tired, and starved. Joker passed the time by playing with the threads of the quilt. He didn't make eye contact with the Batman until he felt a shadow loom over him like a warm hand. The Clown Prince sat up at the looming presence, glaring at the white eyes that had burned at his fuse since that night inside the chemical factory, propping himself up at the wall behind him, a pathetic attempt to make himself look more dangerous.

"Come to take another swing at me?" Joker snarled.

"Easy," the Batman replied nonchalantly, he pulled out the container of pasta and vegetables. "Got you a little something," Batman muttered as he offered the dinner. The Joker examined the container in the Bat's hands, not quite certain what to make of the gesture. The Batman paying attention to him in this manner would never occur even in his wildest dreams.

"Hmmm, how thoughtful, but how do I know you didn't add a little something, you know, to keep me quiet while you go with your little detective work?" Joker quipped, adjusting himself so he sat comfortable on the poor example of mattress he was sitting on.

"I have nothing to gain from that," Batman answered quickly, stepping inside. The pen suddenly got warmer with the Batman presiding over him.

The Joker wrapped his thin arms around himself, noting the sudden change in room temperature. The feeling was unlike anything he had ever felt. The nights at Arkham with chilled air easily seeping through the windows twenty feet high were something he had grown accustomed too, but never really necessarily accepting of. But even those chilly nights could burn out the fire that raged within him, the feeling that would awaken within him every time the Prince encountered him. And now that he was here, the sensations were all a jumble, but he did not dislike it

He put a hand at the bridge of his nose, concentrating to avert another wave of pain generated by the poison thanks to the Scarecrow. A pain in his heart ceased any mischievousness that wanted to come out and play.

"I am not hungry," the Clown Prince sneered at the meal.

Batman repressed a groan. Instead he stepped closer, kneeling down, making the Clown Prince shrivel up again. It gave him some satisfaction seeing the cowering jester at his knees but he had to admit, it was not a welcome sight. It was better to have him barely alive in hear that somewhere out there.

"You have to eat sometime." Ordered words came out of the Bat as he surveyed the starved appearance of his arch nemesis. So frail, so weak, it still boggled him how he managed to have so much energy despite his state. It certainly explained how he got through many loopholes. He felt the words were enough to let the clown know that this wasn't Arkham and that he wasn't as free to do as he pleased. He turned for the door and shut it behind him.

"You think you can just run away from your problems, do you?" Joker growled lowly, turning away from the Dark Knight, feeling uneasy with the arrangements, but not at all ungrateful.

The challenging words ensnared the Batman who stopped dead in his tracks. It registered in his mind that the Joker was calling him a coward or something of the like. Either way, he knew if he ignored the jab, Joker would win, and there was not a chance he would let him savor a small victory, not here, not now. He stared down at the psychotic Caliph of Clowns who greeted the scowl with a sneer

"What. Did. You. Say?" The metallic words cut through the air severing the neutral feeling that smoldered only moments earlier. Old harshness returned.

"Oh, I believe you heard me," the clown taunted.

"I was merely saying at how you ignore anything that presents itself against you and you toss it in the loony bin like yesterday's garbage, thinking it won't come back to haunt you, do you?" The teasing insinuations reignited the wrath that dwelled within him. But he didn't want to give Joker the upper hand. Mocking things is what he lived for.

"Ooooh, added a little too much salt in your salad?" Joker clasped his hands together presenting the Batman with a face that looked like a cross between a dare and a flirt.

"You keep that up, clown, and you'll find out what the true meaning of torture is!"

The Joker stood up and pressed himself onto the bars. The hospital clothes provided for him were drenched in sweat and dried blood.

"OH! Look at the big bad Bat, putting up a bold faced front which is as phony as his 'quest for justice'" The Prince quoted with his fingers.

"You think you're so funny don't you?" Batman said grimly, ready for any form of retaliation from the Joker. "You think Madness is the only rational response?"

"You think you know?! Just wait until you see what one night in Ar-!"

But before he could continue, a violent jolt from the ground made them both loose balance. The entire cave began to rattle which made the computer turn on and off before finally shutting down again altogether. The Batman opened the cage and reached inside, offering a hand to the Clown Prince who struggled to get back on his feet.

It was Cataclysm all over again.

"GIVE ME YOUR HAND!!!" Batman barked.

With that, Joker did as he was told without hesitation. For the next several minutes, the Batman shielded the Clown Prince as bits from the Batcave fell on him and rolled off.

Oy, I hope you liked it. I admit it wasn't much but I promise there will be a lot more Bat/Joker communication and only Bat/Joker. I'll leave the rest of the boring stuff alone for now. More drama to come! Stay tuned!

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	8. A Clown's Secret

_Author's note: Hiya, I'm glad y'all are enjoying it, however, I still feel its sub par though I am glad to see plenty of you are very encouraging. Bless you. Oh, and one more thing, I will only tolerate some doofus reviews but if you are fourteen years old, have a very close mind about said characters, or live in the backwoods somewhere or are a combination of all three, I suggest you stay away and not use your precious time here. You don't like these sorts of stories then boo hoo. For the rest of you, enjoy the ride. Also, if some of you aren't getting email alerts, blame the site, seriously, what the hell?_

Regards,

CC

Era: Post Crisis

Pairing: Batman/Joker

Feedback: Please. Even if you hate it or think I have no talent I'm all ears. I'll give you a cookie!

The machine blared on and off as a result from the violent jolt that shook the ground. Its operations manipulated so immensely that within a few seconds the machine lost its connections, before sputtering back to life and shut down all together. At this point it didn't matter whether it would be of use, as the Dark Knight's administrations were focused. The sirens yelling into his ears weren't helping.

"GIVE ME YOUR HAND, JOKER!!! NOW!!" The Batman roared over the reverberations of the quake that echoed throughout the cave's corridors. Shards of rock were falling sporadically, all ranging between the sizes of pebbles and baseballs. The Clown Prince stood aback at the offer, but took it upon the Knight when a pipe a few feet where he was standing broke, spraying water on the floor.

Batman jerked the frail jester out of the confine violently.

"This way!" He ran towards a deep corner, just out of the way of the rocky ceiling where he saw barely enough damage done. He pulled the Clown Prince towards him in an effort to keep him safe from the falling pieces of rock landing over them, but no matter how fast they ran, the refuge couldn't come any closer. The Batman felt his legs slow down to a crawl, it was almost as if he was in quicksand.

_Almost there_

His lungs were burning with heaving breaths as they got closer, ignoring the pain he caused at the Joker who managed kept up. The huge mane like cape acted as a sort of protective shield as large pieces of granite landed all around them.

A large boulder landed directly in front of them, momentarily ceasing their escape.

"LOOK OUT!!" The order sounded more animal than human as the two men ran around the large remnant of rubble. When they cut the corner, Batman made a sharp stop, quickly analyzing the situation while taking advantage of the Earth's sudden shift in motion from rocking to dead stillness. The computer was down, and some emergency escapes were blocked. The stairs leading up to the manor were spared.

They weren't completely trapped, for the moment at but the same couldn't be said for some of the vehicles he kept. As far as he could tell, the wing off one of the vehicles was broken, and the nose of another car was dented badly. Oil was spilling from the gauge of the plane.

"What are you doing?" Joker screeched, trying to catch his breath. "You'll get us killed!!" Batman grunted in response to the claim.

_Think you idiot!_

While assessing the place with the few precious seconds between the waves, a large fragment from above came loose.

"AAARGH" Joker clutched at his shoulder at the acidic pain that generated to the surrounding areas.

"Come on!" Batman pulled at the skinny chalk white arm of the Clown Prince, who struggled to keep up as he and the Bat ran into a short run off in a deep dark part of the Batcave. Batman swung the Joker and slammed him onto the wall, adrenaline mixing up his senses of safety and momentarily forgetting about the other man's condition until he yelped.

"Shut up!" He barked at the pale quivering man who stood pressed on the wall. The Bat then placed his gauntleted hands on the sides of the Joker's head, acting as a sort of shielding form from the violent jolt. It provided balance but also to kept him within reach. He cut off all loopholes for any chance of escape. The Caliph of Clowns heaved at the 200 pounds of muscle and gristle in front of him, leaning close. He could smell the sweat and salt of the other man. He didn't know whether to be intimidated or grateful.

"Don't move."

The Bat with at least three times muscle mass gave a burning glare and a voice to match at the Caliph of Clowns who ignored his natural impulse for defiance and did as he was told. There was not much he could do when a giant mass of black with an animalistic drive for fear pinned him down. Joker looked up whenever he could at the eyes of his arch nemesis. Neither of them so much acknowledged the giant piece of slate lost its grip and fell behind the Batman, shielding them together, cutting off any remnant of artificial light provided by the cave. Moments passed as the Earth shook, the seconds increased with each passing jolt until eventually the spasms faded and finally died.

It seemed like forever when a voice broke the silence that bridged them. Off in the distance, the sound of a rolling stone could be heard, the only sign of life that resonated in the dismal habitat.

"B-Batman?" The Clown Prince's voice shuddered as he forced the words out. The shadowy shape before him moved, numbed from what had just happened only to be woken up from he sound of Joker's voice who greeted it with a deep groan of pain.

"Batsy, Poppykins? Wh-what's the matter?" The jester inquired when he saw the slight movement of the cowled façade turn forward.

"Nothing," was the only response. He strained as he made a vague attempt to readjust himself, but two tons of rubble wasn't going to let that happen. His ego didn't want to admit at the point of the granite was beginning to dig into his lower back.

"Now, now, I know that look any where, you've got a booboo but you just don't wanna tell mommy because you are a good little boy, aren't you?" Joker chuckled at himself. He had the Bat within reach and he was to close to even hive him a jab to silence him. It was all so funny! It was as if the world was his oyster, the Bat, in front of him, tired, bleeding, and begging practically! The smile on the Joker's red lips disappeared when he didn't see any response. The Bat kept the pain under wraps, or at least he tried to, based on the contortions on his face he did his damndest. The Joker's pale green eyes arched up, looking surprised, if not the least bit concerned.

"Batman?"

The Dark Knight coughed. His body jolted at the immense pressure he felt on his back.

"Pain. On my back," Batman whispered, he cursed himself from having that confession slip from his lips.

"Oh, good, now we both have something to complain about..." The clown giggled. His comical nature offering only temporary solace when he saw the Bat struggle under the weight on him, pushing onto the Clown Prince whose pain had temporarily forgotten about his wounds and focused his attention on the Batman.

"Ugh", the Bat groaned, the sharp pain seeping from his lower back and stinging onto parts of rub cage area, gripping at any trace of thought in hopes of concentrating the sting away.

"You definitely aren't faking, are you, sweetheart." Joker purred silkily. His devious nature resurrecting old feuds in the other man, the Batman's eyes snapped open, and about time too.

"Not faking," he muttered as he made deep meaningful but unsuccessful attempts at suppressing the aching sprain that showed no mercy. He hated it. He couldn't stand not being able to stop it. He abhorred not having full complete charge during the tremor. He hated when things slipped, even at the slightest.

He hated chaos.

He stared down into the acidic green eyes of the man he had battled on countless occasions.

"Are you in pain?" The Batman asked coolly in an attempt to hide any sign of weakness. His senses returning to him slowly but assuredly as he recalled the split second before they ended up where they were standing.

"A little bit," the Clown mused, gripping at his shoulder, demonstrating where the bulk of the soreness was centered, patting the area in a sort of childlike manner.

"Don't force it." A sharp voice responded. "You don't need to make it any worst for yourself."

Joker took his thin palm off his arm, setting it back onto the wall of rock behind him. A small cut pierced the perfect white skin underneath the tan fabric that was now stained with sweat, chemicals, and dried hemoglobin. Some spots not his. Intense forest tinted eyes studied the cowled veneer of the man before him with great curiosity, and intrigue.

"Why would it matter to you?" Joker asked tensely, "…we both know you want nothing else other than to do away with me…." The Joker responded dryly, not wanting to let his blooming curiosity show. The tone was a combination of meek and coyness. Batman swallowed the need to punch him in his silly white face.

"You're right, I do, but then it would mean you would win this game, and I cannot allow that." Batman said flatly, keeping his voice calm though the frequent dallying of the topic was a frustrating one. True, he wanted the clown dead, but if he were to ever do the job. It didn't have to be like this.

The Joker gazed up at the exclamation.

"Oh, and why is that? Is it because you'll get bored and probably end up having to play with Ugly or Hat Boy in your nocturnal escapades? Because I'm the only one who can bring you to your knees and because you how did Pammy put it, can't resist battling wits with me?" Joker batted. The expression griped at the Bats insides.

"My reasons are my own." He responded. The pain jabbing at his back had suspended briefly.

"Ain't it always the way, Mr. Tall, Dark and Gruesome? Surely being mysterious does get boring sometimes, doesn't it? I mean, how do you use your bat potty?"

Batman huffed angrily. Talking to the Joker was like trying to nail jell-o to the wall. Pointless, and stupid.

"You wanna know what I think? I think something happened to your little birdie when you were a brat. Is that why you have a thing for the pussycat?"

The Batman struggled to get the piece of rock poking at his lower back away from him.

"I'm not interested in your little stories, Joker." He grunted. The sensations had arisen again and his pathetic attempt to push them down didn't help. If anything, they came screaming back up.

"It's always the same with you, Batman! I'm trying to have a nice conversation with you and you turn a blind eye!" Joker yelled. Batman returned the gesture with a burning glare. The Clown Prince began to observe the Batman struggle and writhe in front of him.

"What are you doing?" The Joker inquired.

"Trying to get out, so that when I do, I'm going to use methods that wouldn't be approved on the Arkham boards to teach you a lesson," Batman growled stiffly.

Joker let out a small conceited huff. Who was he to boss him around like that? His anger subsiding when he saw the Bat failing to free himself from the tight position he was in.

"Hmmmm, seems to me we're in a bit of a spot." He asked demurely, looking down and around to see if there was any room for him to squeeze out from between the wall of rock behind him and the Bat's dark clutch.

"No kidding." The Bat growled, his voice giving off an angry sarcastic vibe than mutual agreement. His voice was hot against Joker's face and the cold empty recesses of the cave. It produced a feeling of warmth that the Clown Prince had never felt before. It was something foreign and remotely proverbial.

Try as he might, the caped crusader couldn't struggle free of the tight grasp and the heat generated from the cape didn't help. He ceased momentarily, thinking rapidly of any idea that just might work to free them.

Anything that didn't have to make him have to be this close to the madman who hurt him in the most vile of ways.

"Well, since we won't be going any where, why don't we make the most of it?" The Clown Prince gleamed trying to get the Bat's attention once more.

Batman who sneered at the thought: _Talking_ to the Joker was a joke in it of itself. It was just an exchange of words and they never lasted more than a minute every time he had an encounter with the psychopath. They were going to get out of here. It wasn't a matter of if, it was a matter of when. Still it wouldn't hurt letting him have his fun, as long as he was in control. The worst thing he could do was bang his head against the rock behind him, but he was here to stop it.

"What did you have in mind?"

"Oh, I don't know how about we start with how you put on the cape? I mean, no one wakes up one day and says 'I think I'll dress up as a bat and go ooga booga booga on all the crazies!'" Joker waved his hands on the sides of his face to emphasize a bad imitation of a poisonous lizard. Batman stood up as a firm grip took a hold of his mind, trying to bottle up any familiar feeling or memory that really made him who he was.

"I don't see why the same can be said for you?" White eyes stressed a bubbling rage that suppressed the recollection as to why he really became who he was.

"Tsk tsk, I asked first." Joker said with a waving finger. The Batman fought the urge to curl up a fist and aim it at the Joker. It wasn't going to help the situation and with Joker's condition, he would rather risk a coin toss up by Harvey Dent than knock the Joker senseless. This was his private quarter and he wasn't going to let that vulnerable part of him seep through. The pain in his biceps produced a sprain caused by being in the same position for so long. He lowered them to the Joker's sides to let the blood flow continue. Joker noted the change in position. A look of mild notice crossed his face.

"I do it because scum like you need to be stopped." He answered simply. The Clown Prince looked on, half impressed at the confession. He had heard it all before. He gave of a hint of that proud infamous smile as the Bat did his deed, but it wasn't so much as him spilling his thoughts, it was being this close to him that created small tingles within his lithe frame.

"Because of freaks like you that live off chaos and pollute society…" The words were executed with difficulty. Partially it was because he was pouring himself in front of his worst enemy. The other was because he knew he was not completely honest with himself as he felt those piercing orbs smolder at him, looking for any glitch that he might put to his use.

Joker took advantage while the Bat glared at him by clutching a piece of fabric. He knew it was dangerous, but he couldn't resist grabbing a piece of his adversary, holding it in his palm, and toying with it, knowing full well Batman couldn't get to him in this state and by his admission.

"There, now that wasn't too hard, was it, love?" Joker asked. His eyes were hazy at the sudden warmth that engulfed his entire body. His words simmered into the Batman's mind, as he tried not to remember the familiar colloquial spoken by another so significant in his life. He subsided a rising twinge, its cause was not a physical one.

"Have I touched a nerve?" The Clown cooed. The innocence in his eyes was as sincere as his fluid nature. The Bat swiftly grasped at the Joker's thin arms, pinning him against the stone wall, growing more and more agitated at the teases. There would be no more monkey business as soon as they got out of there, as soon as he got out of here. He had done his part.

The next few seconds strained at the Batman's mind. He was getting unbelievably perturbed being up close to a walking chemical waste dump. The smell of antibiotics, alcohol, and sweat invaded his nostrils, which didn't help his thought processes. Talking to the Joker was an absurd thing, and yet here he was doing it. You might as well try talking to animals now, but the Bat couldn't help in reciprocating the words. Joker could speak all the gibberish he wanted, just as long as no one was getting seriously hurt. The Batman felt something twist underneath his skin.

"Why do you do it, Joker?"

The jester mused over the rhetorical question, tapping a thin finger on his bony chin. The Batman was talking to him.

"Right now, I could settle for a nice helping of mac and cheese and watch Ellen on the tube, but it's not really _what I_ want, Batsy baby," his croaking voice stressed the words, "…though it would be nice if you wouldn't dolly when we're having a nice word trade mono e mono…like how we are right now…." he trailed off looking up to see how high the boulders were before being shaken out of his dreamlike state and jerked suddenly.

"There's NOTHING nice about prying into people's personal business!" The snarl aroused an old feeling of revulsion in the Clown Prince, who only went further in his torment of the Bat.

"So tense, why are you such an angry boy, love?" Joker didn't catch the soothing timbre in his voice until a few seconds to late when the Batman squeezed his arms. Thoughts were flying everywhere as Batman analyzed how much he had started hating that moniker more and more. Love, Be**love**d, it was getting harder to differentiate between the two and coming from the Joker, it became especially tainted.

_He's slipping, he wouldn't know it if it hit him! Now's your chance! _The Clown Prince let go of the fabric and let it fall to his adversary's side. Growing more and more fascinated with the Bat's unease and his unwillingness to finish him off.

_Don't let him get to you! It's all one big game and you mustn't give in now! _

_Listen to yourself! He's helpless, he's broken! Do it!_

The Joker brushed his chalk white bony fingers across the cowled face, which gave a mumble in response.

A simple touch.

The Joker held back, apparently surprised at the expected reaction. The Dark Knight meanwhile was lost in a flood of his murky thoughts, being flashed with fleeting defining moments in his life, some pleasant, others not so pleasant. The walls were closing in, suffocating him. It wasn't until he noticed the Clown Prince running his skinny digits on his gloves that he realized what had transpired.

"What. Are. You. Doing?" The words hammered into the Prince's senses as he frantically thought of an excuse. "Nothing," He smiled sheepishly trying to remain ambivalent of his nemesis dark mood, "Just…looking."

"Looking means no touching." The voice was sharp and metallic. No one would get around the phrase. But Joker wasn't just anyone.

"Sorry, you should have said something." The white skinned man smiled suggestively. "I really wish you would be more loquacious, darling. It would certainly help me understand you better." The Joker traced a small circle on the smaller of the other man's left arm.

"Some things are better left unsaid." The Dark Knight replied brusquely, not letting the Joker's doeskin hands distract him.

"Like what? Like perhaps the reason you won't share with me what troubles you when I am openly offering my attention?" Joker took his thin palm and placed it across his chest, looking almost sincere.

"No, more like the fact that I grow more and more tired of your little mind games every day! Knowing that nothing will ever satiate your bloodthirsty appetite for chaos and carnage until you see me on my knees and at your feet!" Batman shuddered internally; this is the most he has ever spoken to his archenemy, with the truth and nothing but the truth. He was exposed. Open and vulnerable.

_It was the blood loss. Can't concentrate. That's it. Control it. _

"But what was I doing before that made you so _uncomfortable, _hmmm? You can't go around thinking that I know what you are talking about when you speak in abstracts."

"You're a criminal mastermind with a long history of death and pestilence. You should know, you're smart, Joker." Batman strained. He hadn't counted on this, being helpless. He hated it. He hated himself for being so vulnerable and in front of him. He was completely oblivious of what the Clown Prince was doing until he caught it almost too late.

"Why thank you dearest, but that still doesn't exactly answer my question…"Joker smiled as he trailed his fingertips down the base of the neck, traveling past the symbol, letting his hands toy with the yellow belt in a catlike manner. Batman held his breath, the last thing he needed was spilling of the Joker's blood in his lair. Long fingers ran across the utility belt poking and prodding at the small packets and tube containers. It delighted him to no end as he friskily examined the Bat's waist weapons cache.

"Joker…." The Bat snarled.

"Yes, dearest?" Innocent eyes suddenly met the piercing blue ones hidden beneath the cowl. Joker traced his fingertips on the belt while being mesmerized by the orbs of shocking blue. They were sharp, forceful, and deep.

And human, judging by the level of emotion in them. So, there definitely was someone in there, someone who needed enough rattling to come out, someone who needed good reason to come out and play. Joker wondered if he could be that. He smiled suggestively. Red lips pulled themselves up in a mischievous manner.

"That…" the voice sprained to bring anything further. The sensations that came from his waist and migrated onto his torso shook him. He tolerated bullet wounds, sharp objects, falling, anything that seriously injured him, this however, tested his very balance. Joker was charmed at the site as his delicate hands engrossed themselves onto the rubber just above the Batman's abdomen, studying the throbbing form. The Knight mentally shut himself down in order to disregard the harlequin's strokes but to little avail. Joker went up further and pressed onto the pectoral area of the costume, oblivious to the Bat that it was the yellow symbol he was marveling at while he was toying with the built chest muscles to its sides. So firm, so tight, so beautiful up close. Like touching the forbidden fruit, Joker indulged himself a few more strokes before the Bat quickly grabbed one of the Joker's hands and held it firmly, reminding him who was boss.

He had enough. The Batman held a firm grip on Joker's delicate hand. He was not to be objectified.

"That's quite enough." The sudden boldness did little to anger the Prince.

"It's all one big sick act for you, isn't it, Joker?" The fully recognizable growl reached the Clown's senses. He arose to the well-known tone.

"_Teatrum mundi_, darling, what isn't an act?," Joker's fingers clenched in the Bat's grip. "I was only noticing how wonderfully fit you were!" The Dark Knight grunted at the response, utterly disgusted at the Joker words. The act was especially poignant. Batman groaned and shifted his attention upwards, noting mental calculations at the distance between them and the roof of the cave. A black nothingness met his gaze. Black. Empty. Meaningless. Loss. No order.

Chaos.

"I think I know a way we can get out of here." He said roughly, tired of being in the same place and tired of the Joker's shenanigans.

"Oh?" The green haired clown mused, as he stared up at the empty space above their heads. Batman struggled in the tight space that confined them, but to little effect as it was immensely difficult with boulders squeezing them both together.

"Listen, there is no way we both can't get out of here if we both cooperate and I really need your full input, do you understand?" The Batman ordered. Joker stood aback, not really sure if he wanted to get out. He felt the coldness seep away with the Bat at his full attention.

"How do you mean, Batman? Look at this?" He scanned the stone walls that ensnared them. It was a vague attempt that he hoped would make him reconsider.

"I'm the one in charge here and if you want me to tend to that gash on your shoulder, and the virus multiplying inside of you at a fast rate, you have to PULL IN, GOT IT?!" The half bark, half demand was met with surprising accord as the jade haired man complied.

The Batman jerked himself forward crushing the Joker as he tried to get something out of his belt. Several attempts later it was a losing cause.

"Um, do you need some help?" The clown piped up after the strain on his leg was catching up after Batman's attempts to retrieve his weapon. The readjustments were getting painful. Batman seriously reconsidered the option, if Joker didn't get the hook, he would trap him here and they would both be stuck but if he did, he had enough room to quickly snatch it from him in case he tried to pull anything funny. Worst case scenario he would injure himself to get is attention or because of carelessness, either way it was the less evil of the two options.

"Get the hook on the lower of my back, on this side." Batman gestured with his head, guiding the Clown Prince at the desired destination. He felt a click.

"There."

Joker held up a small gun like instrument in his thin hands but before the Bat could have it in his possession Joker put it out of his reach, Batman just barely grazing over the thin wrists.

"Joker, please."

Joker started intensely at the blue shades.

"No, not until you answer me." The Clown Prince replied, playing with the hook. Batman groused in impatience.

"Answer what? Why you get lousy cable packages at Arkham? Why the lackluster diet served in the cafeterias?" He just wanted this over with. Joker tested the weapon in his possession, half amused, half intimidated.

"No, you are right, I do want my MTV and daily dose of Doctor Phil, but that isn't what I'm asking." Joker leaned forward, mere inches away from the face of his worst enemy, eying those baby blues with vicious abandon. He turned his hooked nose and face in a redolent manner.

"I want to know why you became so twitchy after I asked you why you were lonesome tonight?" The azure colored eyes fixed themselves onto the Bat's, trying to pry anything those deep spheres.

Two shots, he felt them as if it were yesterday.

The Bat became numb again.

"That's personal matter, and I would appreciate it if you didn't tread on it."

The answer was simple and Joker much to his revelation was tolerant and before Joker would take the opportunity to jab, Batman chimed in.

"What about you, Joker? Have anything to share."

He was prepared to dodge anything that was thrown at him. This is not meant as a bridge, there was nothing he had in common with that psychopath. Just play. It's all a game to him. Games. Joker liked games.

The Joker turned sideways looking out at the long hall created by the borders behind them.

"No, not really Mrs. Robinson, Bobby stole my idea, so can I go home and come up with a new one." Joker smiled devilishly. Batman boiled over.

"**God damn it, Joker !!!!" **

Pulling strings as always, the bellow struck the Clown Prince. Joker pondered at the words, clasping at the bat grapple in his hand more tightly as his rattled nerves touched for any ideas.

"Well?" The Bat pressed on. His chest was heaving as he tried to maintain his composure, reminding himself that it didn't help when he yelled.

"HEY! Sometimes it doesn't help when you're barking at me like that, sheesh!!"

_Look at yourself. _The Clown Prince thought. _Here he is in front of you and you blow it!_

Batman clenched at the thin throat holding it firmly but enough to keep him from asphyxiating.

"IF you stop playing me for a fool like that, I will!!!" Batman let go of the neck, Joker running a palm on it, coughing. Angered, but not really hurt. Joker gripped the instrument in his hands, reminding Batman of the only link out. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place. He cleared his throat.

"Okay, Joker, let's start all over. Who are you?" He tried his damnedest not to raise his voice.

"Well, if you really must know, I wasn't always like this." Batman rolled his eyes at the first part of the sentence, but let the Ace carry on. "I mean, ma said I was a good kid, but little did the poor dear know, that I was hanging with the wrong crowd." He ran a finger on the grapple. "What choice did I have to survive when the only thing was……them." Batman thought back to when he first met the Joker, it was not so long after he had a one time encounter with….

"I had to join them."

Batman pretended he was invested in Joker's latest, but nonetheless let him carry on.

"But it doesn't matter any more, that doesn't hurt me any more. I'm fine with who I am. I love playing our little games all over Gotham."

Batman snorted. Joker glared up. "Excuse me?!"

"You mean to tell me I'm supposed to buy that?" Batman retorted.

"S'not like you can buy it Batsy, how much is sentimental value worth, not with half dollar coins and pennies surely." Joker looked up, greeting the burning stare from the Batman.

"What do you know about sentiments, Joker? All you do is piss all over them just so you can spread your plague!" Batman said sharply, disgusted more with the Joker's antics than his crimes.

"Why do you always take things so personally? Why is it any of your business?" Joker spat, voice laced with growing contempt.

"Because I make it my business," the detective said flatly. "You make it my business when you parade your shenanigans like bait for me to find. You, Two Face, Riddler, Scarecrow, you're all the same!"

Joker took offence at being compared to his colleagues. They were subordinate. None of them could compare to the grandiose schemes he concocted while in Arkham as ornately as he did. None of those fools had the passion, the panache to challenge the Batman in a deadly game of wits. No one, not Ugly, The Weed, or Tubby had displayed the raw devotion that he had been doing longer than any of them!

"I'm not like any of those carbon copies!" Joker hissed.

"My bleeding heart." Batman scoffed.

"Fine, don't take my word for it." Joker muttered as he crossed his arms, glaring at the Knight.

"You who wanted to share this little sob story just so you can have a shoulder to cry on, and that doesn't correlate with what you just said about not caring about your past. And it certainly doesn't change my opinion on you, or is this part of your act too?" Batman said hastily.

The green haired man glowered at the taller man. The Clown Prince was caught in his own web. His eyes were seething with shame, anger, and humiliation. He turned away from the Knight.

"But that doesn't mean that there wasn't something that set you off, "Batman said, with a slightly softer timbre in his voice. It was caring, almost paternal, but firm. The Joker caught it.

"So you admit to that you see it? You see that bond that we have?" Joker inquired with a look of apprehension on his gaunt face.

"No one is going to cry you a river, Joker." Batman said stiffly. "You're beyond all hope."

It was a slap in the face for the Clown Prince, who for one second felt a moment of bliss, and it didn't involve a gun, that he and Batman had something in common and that even he acknowledged it, only to take it away quickly, and things didn't change.

The warmth had gone. The connection had evaporated into a pathetic mist of nothingness.

"Hmph," Joker blurted. "I suppose you might as well finish me off here, knowing you, you would be better off without me, now won't you?"

"In theory yes, but I will not allow myself that indulgence for a variety of reasons." Batman responded. A creak of light shined through the cave.

"Remember what you said about one day we'll end up killing each other, maybe you, maybe me? But wouldn't it be nice, if well," Joker strained at trying to make the words come out without sounding stupid, "if, we, could both be..." he gulped, unsure himself if he really meant them. He had the Batman's attention to start with and he didn't lay a curled hand on him this time around. "...happy?"

Joker choked at the last word, ready for anything the Bat would throw at him. Batman thought over the phrase. A long pause passed between the two of them. The statement had a facet of legitimacy and it painted the Joker in a new light, a tragic one.

"Stop gassing kindergarteners and teenagers and I will be pleased. Stop the senseless murders to get my attention and I will happy as a clam." He was rapidly interjected by the Joker.

"Will you do back flips?" Joker giggled, a quick image of the Bat engaging in colorful acrobatics flashed in his mind.

"Don't push your luck." Batman sneered. A small smirk formed on his mouth, lassoing the Joker's attention. It certainly was something. He studied it with extreme caution, making doubly sure he saw what he thought he saw.

_That's it, soothe him, and let him think you're playing along._

"So you see it? We are two pieces of a puzzle and we give meaning to each other's lives." Joker chirped, sounding extraordinarily vulnerable now.

Batman cut off the Joker's trace of thought who settled his palm into his pocket, deep in thought, obviously enjoying the exchange and oblivious to the fact that the other was reveling in his tranquility and distraction.

Don't push it. Don't yell. Batman repeated in his mind.

"We are NOT the same. I am not you Joker and I will never be." He knew full well that the words would fall on flat ear but it had to be said.

"You could say that, but we are the same, but with one crucial difference." Joker leered at the Batman. He desperately wanted to spit in the face of mischief.

"I take it upon myself to stop people like you and yet you can never satiate that twisted mind that death is the answer to all of your problems!" Batman barked. "You think this is some sort of disturbed fantasy and-"

"IT isn't about the killings! I do it because I know it gets your attention! I do it because it gets you angry and I would do anything to make you come after me, it's all one big dance! One that you and I share!!" Joker exclaimed, his voice cracking, almost holding back passion, it could pass as emotion even. Batman was disgruntled.

"Funny, I thought in art, there had to be some emotion and with all I get from you is meaningless violence."

Joker looked up once again.

"_**How dare you! When you destroy my plans, when you take me back, when you finally catch me, I know that! I feel that! That is feeling!! That is, what I feel I don't do it because of the killings! I do it because I want to see you**_"

_That is what I remember. That had meaning, didn't it?_

Batman didn't know how much he could take from the Joker but for once in his entire being of knowing him, he had made some sense. This was getting surreal, intangible, like the rug had been pulled from underneath him. He didn't like that. He wanted solid facts, not mindless dribbles. This was fluid, untouchable, slippery. Joker was slippery and intangible. Intangible, like wind, and he needed some air now. Batman felt himself feel suffocated, he didn't count how long he was here, but the claustrophobic atmosphere was trying him tremendously.

The cloudy forest colored eyes gazed down at the floor.

The Batman for once, didn't know what to think. This confession/psychopathic rambling was something he couldn't take lightly. But now wasn't the moment to contemplate that. He took the instrument from the Joker's hand and aimed it at the sky. Not wanting waste any more time.

"How much do you weigh?" The Dark Knight asked sharply.

The Joker turned back at the caped crusader, oblivious to the fact that he had taken the gadget from his hands.

"Oh, I don't know, about a hundred an-!" Without warning, Batman shot into the air feeling the end grasp firmly onto a part of the Earth's crust above them.

"Hold on." Batman ordered as he pressed the Clown Prince close to him. Within seconds the squeezed out of the boulders that sandwiched them, and out into the open aired cave once again.

It was 8.14 AM.

_Things haven't been the same  
Since you came into my life  
You found a way to touch my soul  
And I'm never, ever, ever gonna let it go, Madonna. _

Whew!

_**Can you tell I'm a Tim Burton fan? Heheh.**_

_**Thanks for reading, I really hope you enjoyed it and I hope it made sense. If it didn't feel free to drop me a line and complain. I won't bite, what am I gonna do? Get out from the screen and slap you? XD! Once again I just wanted to credit Killing Joke's Throway Card Story and Dark Jester's The Game We Play as major inspirations. Check em out on my faves list.**_


	9. Trust

**Updated: May, 2 2007. I looked at my chapters out of curiosity and saw that they were in dire need of cleaning up. **

Era/setting: Post crisis comics, some BTAS.

Pairing: Batman and Joker. Don't like it, tough!

Synopsis: Batman and Joker go deeper into delving into each other's disturbed psychosis. Is it two steps forward? Two steps back? Do opposites attract?

Feedback: Yes, please!

Beta: Phoenix Skyborn, thanks doll!

"My word! Sir! Are you all right?" Alfred panted. His sleeves were disheveled from preparing that evening's dinner but it was more like the quake had shaken the normally calm butler out of his firm, gentle demeanor.

"I'm fine, Alfred," was all the Batman said as he stepped into the kitchen, carefully walking over the messy floor which was covered in sauce from the broken glass containers. It would take hours to clean up the mess but fortunately, most of the good china remained intact due to thumb files Alfred had installed to prevent such as occurrence. He owed the old man one but now wasn't the time as the Batman filled himself a glass of tap water and swallowed its contents generously.

"Sir, may I inquire as what you have done with in regards to your new guest?" The old butler began scrubbing the black and white tiled floor with a very moist cloth.

"He's not too happy with the living arrangements but there's not much you can do with a lost cause like him." The Batman set the empty glass into the sink, eying the man who had been a surrogate father to him for most of his life.

"He's tied down, so I doubt he'll do any harm, to himself especially." The Dark Knight looked out the window where the skies were heavy and grey with stray patches of black had begun to produce a downpour again. His mind was still in a deep haze over the Joker's words. They stung him like sharp needles. They pierced him in a way that no gun shot would or blade could ever do. He quickly shook it off.

It was just a lie, a lie to keep himself alive, a fib to bring him to the brink and make him slip. They were slippery and Joker is slippery.

"Master Bruce, if I may-"

"Save it, Alfred." Batman interjected as he started his way back down to the cave to lock himself away from all civilization.

"Sir, that's precisely the problem!" The middle aged butler asserted, making the Knight stop in his tracks. "You always insist on maintaining control like it's a wild bull elephant and you turn a deaf ear on anyone who warns you about possible circumstances, I only ask that you don't forget that as Bruce Wayne, you are your father's son, and well, it wouldn't hurt to listen, even once in awhile."

Questioning his line? It wasn't exactly the first time but it wasn't something Bruce couldn't easily digest and the Batman found irritating.

"Thank you for the words, Alfred," Batman gruffed. "I'll remember them when I'm busy breaking Joker's bones after he slips antifreeze into your cornflakes." Batman shot the older man a dirty look and proceeded down stairs into the dark passageway, into the Batcave.

"At least think about it, sir." He turned back to offer him a warm plate of pasta but saw that it was already gone.

Everything had maintained its place except for a few off-balanced jets and vehicles from his private collection. Some went as far back as when Dick wore the mantle but with a few modern modifications. The computer was still shut down, with occasional circuits sizzling faintly, but no permanent damage was done. Looks like sleep won't come tonight for Bruce Wayne but even then, there were more serious matters to be tended to. He surveyed the general shake up of the place and decided it was nothing he couldn't handle, but it wasn't without its neck breaking challenges.

Joker meanwhile was half sitting, half lying down in a corner playing with the fabric of his torn, sweaty shirt from the hospital. His left hand was tied to a pipe, extra tight so as to prevent a similar occurrence like the one at the hospital. His dainty wrist hung there weakly in the chain and it had been sometime since he had nutrients, the hospital fare notwithstanding.

"Zip a dee doo da, zip a dee oom, my oh my what a wonderful boom!" Joker hummed to himself, recalling one of his first mass murders, they way people lay out like props over the city, in the warehouses, a young pup and he already had the city at its knees. It wasn't until he caught sight of the Bat standing over him that shifted from his position. He was feeling cramped in that position.

"Oh, you're back!" Joker beamed. "I was beginning to think you didn't love me, any more." He giggled at his remark. Batman set the dinner aside on top of a flat space on his computer.

"Shut up." He said disgustedly. He suppressed a desire that the quake should have done some sort of damage to him, like shock, or whatever, but with more than half his medical supplies gone and most likely destroyed, it wouldn't help being too rough on him at the moment. He knelt down and faced him with one foot approximately in between them. Joker's emerald eyes widened at the closeness.

"What is it, darling? Do I have an eye booger?" He gasped. "Wait! You noticed my crow's feet!" Batman stood up once again, creating a dark looming shadow. He did not like the look of those sunken hollowed cheeks. They looked like snow frosted basins in terrible need of nourishment.

"Just checking for any minor discrepancies," the Bat responded as a matter of factly.

"I'm fine, you overgrown ugly cephalopod!" Joker squawked. "How many times do I have to tell you, I feel no pain and even if I did, I would be up and running in no time, as you have been subject to witness many times over! I'm invincible! I am the walrus! I am Joker, here me roar!" He huffed.

Batman however, made no misgivings about the clown's tantrum. In fact, he was expecting it.

"Just because you don't feel pain doesn't mean there is not any thing wrong with you." Batman reached for the warm dinner, substituting for what the Joker had requested earlier. "I really suggest you eat something." He held out the warm plate which was emanating dancing fumes that tickled Joker's senses.

"I prefer macaroni" he spat out. No way was he going to take orders from him!

"Very well," Batman said flatly. "I'll ask my butler to make you some." The last thing he needed was unnecessary drama in his own home and it wouldn't hurt changing a meal for him. He turned to make his way up the stairs.

"Wait! Wait!" Joker cried.

Batman stopped dead in his tracks. The pointy eared figure turned back at the corner where Joker was occupied.

"Are you going to leave me down here, again?" He asked with a hint of concern in his voice.

"If you want something other than baked ziti, I do have to tell my servant." Batman replied. Never in recent memory could he recall Joker sounding so, well, helpless. He didn't mull over it for long. Joker made a vague attempt to adjust himself but failed.

"Well, if you are going to be my guardian, the least you could do is make my stay a little more… hospitable, if you will, just until I get back on my feet." Joker sighed. He strained at the growing discomfort at his back.

Batman pondered over his next decision carefully.

"What is it this time?" He asked simply. For all he knew Joker would want him to site quotes from Marx Brothers movies or do impersonations from his favorite Stooges films.

"Do you mind getting these mangy things, off of me, Bats?"

The Dark Knight looked at the cuffs, which were squeezing themselves at the psycopath's joints. He looked uncomfortable there but with all that he had done, Joker deserved it. He deserved no ounce of sympathy or charity.

"You've handled worse Joker," was all Batman said as he turned back. It wasn't until he was at the foot of the stairs that his stern train of thought was broken by the Joker yelling.

"Go on! Go on! Run away from all your problems! All I asked was that you give me a bit of your attention and what do you do?! You turn all coward on me!"

The burning words gripped at the Dark Knight's ego. He could have easily ignored the jab and acted as if he didn't hear it but he wasn't about to let the Joker have the upper hand again, especially after the uncomfortable tirade only moments earlier. Poked and prodded like a caged rat, he wasn't going to let go of it this time. He marched back at the crook with the caliph of clowns staring up at him defiantly.

"Like they say," Joker purred, "the bigger they are, the louder they…." But before he could continue, he was jerked violently at the collar, making the chain at his wrists rattle.

"How dare you! After saving you from that hellhole and taking you in, you just prove to me that it's all one sick act! Well you know what? Congratulations! I knew it was somewhere in you, just waiting for the right moment to come out!" Batman barked. His rage blazing like wildfires that even the clown prince was taken aback at the display.

"Not quite," Joker said nonchalantly, trailing his thin finger with a jade curl on his forehead. "My leg is getting numb from sitting like this, and I could use some iced tea, I am rather parched," he smiled softly.

"What is it going to take, Joker? Until I break every bone in your body so that you'll stop being a walking chemical waste dump to people?! Do I have to break your neck for you to finally get it!" Batman grabbed the thin wrist very firmly, shaking the Joker out of his relaxed state. His teeth clenched and gritted that it both fascinated and startled him. Although he had been used to Batman reprimanding every single one of his incongruities, he had to admit to have never been this close and unsure at the same time at such rage, such feeling, and such vulnerability.

"All I ask is that you remove my shackles so that I may move more freely," he said sternly.

"That's precisely it, isn't it? Everyone gave you a little wiggle room and you took the entire arm. Not happening, Joker!" Batman bellowed. He shook the clown's limb in his grasp. Joker's palm gripped at the strength applied to his lower arm, particularly in the radius. Batman caught himself in the midst of all feeling. It wasn't helping the occasion and yelling at the Joker did little to curb the situation, but nonetheless he felt slightly better and took deep calculating breaths to simmer down and to compose himself. Joker wasn't going to win again. It was one thing battling with him on rooftops, abandoned toy factories and the like, but here in his own private space, in his most intimate vicinity where everything held so dear close to him, it felt more like a battle within himself than with his arch nemesis. He felt he was walking on eggshells.

"I'll get you your tea." He said coolly.

Should he leave the Joker down here, he would most certainly hurt himself by strangling and breaking his wrists and thus making things worst. He could also give into his request, but under his control. There was little to lose with the latter. That would mean giving into his demands, and as far as he was concerned, the murderous clown deserved nothing.

"Don't give me that modest Bat guano." Joker hissed. "You seem so tense at any mention of familial connections. Don't I think I didn't notice…."

Batman felt a punch in the gut. The only family members he had were all operating on their own successfully and even that was sacred ground Joker was treading on. Naturally, as if he cared, and after what he had done to two of them, he proudly treaded on the skin deep wounds. Marking his territory and spraying it with his poison.

"You killed my ward, how else is any sane person going to feel?" Batman spat back. The dish was shaking in his hand.

"Oh, I know about that already, but that is not what I am talking about. Tell me, Bats, did your parents have anger management problems?" The Clown Prince strained at the tightening grip of the cuffs, but the Batman did nothing to stop it. He looked pathetic and in real pain. It was a tragic sight. He secretly liked seeing Joker like this. The bastard deserved it.

"Didn't yours? I would say expressing them through violence is a pretty bad example." Batman replied.

"True, but she did tell me to express myself." Joker chortled, "But I'm not the one on trial here, I want to hear about you, I want to continue our little chat session."

The Dark Knight was growing more and more agitated with the same old song and dance.

"I say we stay away from that until you can prove to me that you're sane and that you have an ounce of decency."

The Batman stared down at the Joker like a cat about to pounce on a mouse. Shaken and rattled, he couldn't forgive himself for momentarily slipping. It meant that he was getting the upper hand and that's what he ultimately wanted. Joker was dicey. Any minor glitch in his favor was a victory and that was long overdue. The Batman was in control and it was his turn to handle the Joker as he saw fit. He was an inhuman monster who murdered his ward and paralyzed a sidekick in the most sinister of ways. He set aside the plate.

Enough was enough and he wasn't going to get away for the thousandth time.

Joker's only response was an insolent smile that spread over his face.

"Very well, I see you're a man of privacy and I can totally respect that. It is part of the fun factor for me to be honest with you, Batsy, but honestly, is it too much to ask for a teensy weensy favor?" Joker cooed. His ruby lips turned downward into a deep frown that almost looked mocking.

Whether it was or wasn't, Batman was chewing over his thoughts considerably. Magnifying them ten million times over and analyzing every single nuance and effects ten steps ahead. Giving him this one little glitch would be minor but it would still mean that he has one. On the other hand if he didn't untie him, he would not only shut up about it but it would affect him somehow, shaking violently and bleed to death. He couldn't risk that. He would only do this favor out of concern and not out of pity. Scratch that, concern for his health, not pity for the man himself.

"Well… have at you Batsy?" Joker asked assertively. A fraction of that infamous beam smudged on his face.

"On certain conditions Joker, one, only under my supervision…" Batman said as he began to pick the locks of the chains.

"Okay, but how will that fly when it comes to my rights to privacy?" Joker prodded on, looking suspiciously at the overgrown Bat.

"Two, this isn't Arkham, so don't expect the liberties that you had there in here." He picked the second lock, finally releasing the clown prince who stretched himself out, letting blood circulate more freely in the numb areas. His long limbs were reaching out into the empty air. He cracked his wrists to rid himself of the stiffness.

"Ahhhh, much better, "he chuckled. He folded his arms and leaned back at the wall behind him. "So, how's life? What do you think about the trash TV they have nowadays? I bet that's why you like coming outside to play almost every night, aren't you?" Without warning, the Batman lunged at the jester, pinning him violently against the granite wall in a different corner and out of the shadows. "Ouch! And here I was trying to make decent conversation with you and this is how you treat me? What happened to my half of the bargain?!"

Batman scowled, his hand clutched to Joker's shirt, which had rotted some more.

"There's nothing decent about you, first off and secondly, conversations are a two way street and I only heard you talking." The stern animalistic tone had aroused an old hatred from both men. Joker squinted and the pressure at the torso. He glared back at the horned figure pinning him down. He let out a low yowl.

"If you think you're getting away with it again this time you're sadly mistaken." Batman grumbled, paying no mind to the labor he had induced on Joker. He leaned in to make sure that it really was what he saw.

"Batman…." Joker strained with barely a voice attached the whisper that came out of the red lips. Days without a meal had done their damage as Batman caught on close proximity. Dry skin, lifeless glassy eyes, it was not a decent sight, even in the most evil of monsters.

"Owww…" Joker mumbled. The pull was twisting and nerve racking. He had tolerated worse kinds of pain but nothing really like this. He had no concept of pain or torture unless he was the one orchestrating it. It was almost as if Batman himself was enjoying it.

"What's wrong, Joker? I thought you wanted my attention." Batman said sardonically. He had to admit it felt liberating having the Joker under his thumb. The murders, the lies, it was like getting some sort of compensation without feeling really guilty.

"What are you doing?" Joker strained. The absence of any itinerant movement on his behalf was aggravating.. Pain was the way that they both communicated: broken bones, black and blues on various places. Most normal people opted for emails, pictures, silly stuff like that. But they weren't most people, and they certainly weren't normal.

"Just one question, Joker, what do I get if I were to let you go?" the Dark Knight said darkly.

"Gnnnnn, my undying devotion, Bats…" Joker clenched. His concentration arrested because of the sting.

"Please," he pleaded under his breath. The Batman further constricted him.

"You're. Hurting. Me." Joker said drearily. He really was hurting. The limited mobility on the floor had generated pain on his arm and it didn't help at all that it was concentrated on his chest, where the center of his induced trauma was at its strongest. His ribs felt like they were about to be crushed.

Batman registered the words in his mind, but his arms didn't comply. It could have been involuntary but when he caught the expression on Joker's face he knew then he wasn't helping the situation. He let go slowly but assuredly, letting Joker know who was really boss.

"Thank you," said the mountebank adjusting the contents of his shirt. The open space suddenly let him feel a chill. "Now Batman, was that entirely difficult?" The harlequin piped up, feeling fresh as a daisy.

"It's all one big game for you, isn't it?" Batman spat back, staying at close propinquity to the Joker in case he tried to pull a fast one.

"World's greatest detective indeed, ha!" Joker spat back, rubbing his dainty white wrists to free himself from the ache generated from the metal fetters. "Now, I don't kiss and tell freely to just anyone, but in your case, Bats, you might say we're connected. Don't tell me you didn't notice…" Joker looked ashamedly down at the floor, setting his eyes down at a puddle leaking out of a small pipe close to his feet.

"Again with the distorted romance," Batman snorted. He couldn't tell what was more frustrating, that or Joker acting like a two year old. "You were saying…" He made a mental note to stop with the needless violence. It wasn't helping him at all. He was going to need a lot of hours to dedicate to yoga as soon as possible.

"That's exactly your problem, Batman. You have this egocentric God complex that it blinds you to see things from other people's perspectives!" Joker hissed, standing mere inches away from the Dark Knight who had a small advantage in height. Batman felt his gut tighten.

"You have nothing to share with the world, Joker, just a warped sense of reality that only allows for mindless chaos with my head on the stake." Batman lolled crossing his broad arms across his chest, looking like an angry parent.

"Can you at least listen to what I have to say without jumping to conclusions? I do it because I know you hate it, it gets you come after me. You're like my best friend and Gotham is a stage. You're my playmate and we have this chemistry that I know you feel too."

Joker's words stung like acid. Batman knew what he was talking about. That long history of battle, the deep wounds, all the losses were all at this man's feet. Jason. Barbara. He just didn't like the way he was interpreting it.

"I don't find psychological dribbles enlightening, especially when they are from a self proclaimed psychopath."

Joker stood there, examining his finger nails, but the words bit him. Not once did he look at the Batman.

"Typical." Joker hissed.

"If I am your best friend as you claim, where does that leave Harley?" Batman inquired. He was revolted, but curious.

"Harley?" Joker replied with a look of inquiry on his face.

"Yes, Harley, wears red and black and calls you pet names that sound like kid's desserts." Batman said frankly.

Why was she so important? Joker's deep green eyes tensed together as if he was insulted.

"Cute kid, but a little too needy for my tastes." He turned to face him.

"You don't say," the Dark Knight replied dryly. "Then why don't you kill her?"

"Oh come off it! You've seen how clingy she is! Can I help it if the dumb broad is a little cookoo for my cocoa puffs! How can I if she doesn't get the joke if she won't see it coming?!"

"Perhaps as a way to preserve YOUR ego, Joker?," the Batman pointed out. How could he counteract that one Batman wanted to know.

"What's there to be proud of when someone claims they love you when they do nothing but live off the air that you breathe! Harley, she… she's just my henchwench, my right hand girl. The only reason I keep her around is because she distracts me in between my stays at Arkham and my encounters with you! She doesn't understand my need to see you! The challenge you bring me, not her! She doesn't stimulate me to the extent that which you do because you have this _joie à vivre_ that she doesn't!"

Batman was very taken back at Joker's confession. It wasn't like him to pour himself out about his henchgirl. Although he knew he wasn't exactly her biggest fan either, Joker's words made sense. Not a lot but some sense. It certainly shook up his views on his arch nemesis but not entirely. There was still the factor of his constant abuse.

"An interesting display of emotion," Batman folded his arms.

"I only took her in because she was my one way ticket out of that hell hole! But she wouldn't leave me alone and I thought I would make use of the girl, she had this something, this passion, this life. She, she reminded me…" Joker couldn't finish his words. Whatever he was thinking of next was twisting his senses, bubbling up like a tar pit that couldn't break surface. Whatever it was, Joker couldn't bring himself to say it.

Interesting, Batman thought. Joker's breakdown was definitely a first, and it wasn't an act as far as he could tell. He made no effort to get back at him, no teases, no taunts, not a word of torment from him in this entire tirade. The very idea of humanity within the Joker was an unnerving one in itself. It put him in a different light. Not necessarily a better one, but different nonetheless. It was a sick joke and it was hard to swallow.

He wasn't as ready to be forgiving about Harley. It had become pretty obvious that she had used the Joker as a way to compensate for something in her life. Hearing something similar out of the Joker was something quite dark.

"Those are real people you're dealing with. You just don't see that. They are not material things you can dispose of easily." Batman warned, talking to the Joker like he was a first grader, knowing full well he wasn't going to listen. Still, it was better than letting him think blindly that he was taking in every word. "Something must have happened to you earlier in life, and I can understand that. It doesn't have to be this way for you." The gentle tone was warm and assuring, and when it graced the Joker's ears, he felt a warmth inside. It was the first time ever in recent memory that someone talked to him like a person, the Batman of all people, talking to him and not down.

The Clown Prince turned and shied away from the words, hiding his frown that masked deep resentment because he knew that Bat tapped into something. It didn't have to be this way. It didn't have to end with another round at the hospital wing and back to the asylum for another pointless analysis. The Batman provided for that already and in far shorter time than the asylum could ever do.

"Hmmm, took you awhile," Joker retorted. His mind was racing at a hundred miles per hour at the myriad of thoughts swimming in his brain. Had Batman finally seen the bridge? Was he willing to cross it? The Clown Prince took the time to reflect his disposition. He wanted that connection and in that fleeting second he felt that friction dissolve and they both saw eye to eye. It only took seconds to dissipate and fizzle away as if it wasn't there any more.

"The offer I made at your place still stands." He was of course referring to the proposition made it his carnival grounds, right after he humiliated the commissioner and his daughter. Batman knew Joker had gone off the deep end a long time ago, but the glimmer of hope he saw reflected in the tirade seconds earlier didn't seem like an awkward idea.

"And what would you do, if I accepted?" Joker asked. His voice was timid, like a frightened child. This was dangerous ground and he didn't feel like trampling on it and spoiling the moment.

"That would be up to you. Providing of course, you make progress, I will personally see to it that you get a better cell, if that helps," Batman said assuredly.

"Oh, what makes you think I can't change?" Joker teased.

"That would be up to you." Batman said simply. He toyed with the cuffs in his possession.

"Again with the abstracts, Batsy." Joker smiled.

"I wouldn't want to get my hopes up." Batman stepped back and surveyed their surroundings. Joker took the opportunity to step in closer.

"You're such a pessimist," Joker hummed, "but enough about me, let's talk about you, the subject I originally called for." Joker prodded. He touched the cape on Batman's side. The Dark Knight, although taken by slight surprise, let him play with the fabric, if it was what kept him calm and cool. He clutched at the cuffs and hid them out of sight away from the clown prince.

"Why are we so tense?" Joker asked softly. His eyes were hazy, tired looking.

"You're touching again," Batman snapped. He hoped the words conveyed enough sense into him without having to be physical. Of course they didn't. Joker's hands traveled from the thick hanging Kevlar to the one attached to his face. It was getting very, very personal.

"What's a matter, you don't like my touch? You got something there. I was only getting it," The Clown Prince taunted. There really wasn't anything there, he just wanted to see if the Bat would lunge at him after being so gentle with him. He couldn't resist touching even if his hands would be cut off as a result. He wanted to see if the Bat was sincere and that if he really was caring enough to actually let him sneak a stroke. He didn't attack, that was a good sign, but he stopped while he was ahead. He settled his left hand onto a bar sticking out of a wall.

He then felt something grab at his wrist and click.

Trapped again.

"You-" Joker tensed.

"I told you not to touch me." Batman responded sharply. He executed each word forcefully., hitting each one like a nail into a wall.

"You, I should have known it was too good to be true. I offered you trust and this is how you return the favor?!" Acidic eyes glared in rage at the Batman. The treachery was an insult to injury and that could not be forgiven easily.

"Trust? What trust, Joker? For all I know, they could be nonsensical rantings coming out of you." Batman spat. Old prejudices were creeping up on him.

"You rotten, sneaky, son of a-"

"Hey, watch it!" The Dark Knight snapped. "You keep up that monkey business and I'll-" But before he could finish his sentence, Batman had the wind knocked out of him upon feeling a swift force fly across his face. A stinging sensation ensued afterwards.

The Joker had just slapped him.

He registered what had just happened after he turned and saw the frail clown heaving. His teeth clenched tightly. He let out a low growl. "Joker, this is the last time…"

Another speedy backhand had greeted him. He then grabbed the Joker's free wrist.

"Joker, stop it-"

"Or what?! You'll cage me up like a dog and have total disregard for me and treat me like the dirt between your toes when I've been cooperative under your and I quote care and you expect me to-"

"SHUT UP!"

A jab at the stomach broke the Batman's fuse as he landed a fast punch on the Joker's jaw. His tolerance was snapped and irreversible beyond repair. There was no use getting the Joker to collaborate and he felt that he had gone too far despite warning himself earlier. What a fool he thought. He's not human, he got to you! Idiot!

Joker kneed him, but the tables were turned when Batman landed another jab this time at the Joker's stomach, making him yowl at pain. He elbowed the clown prince after a failed attempt by him to kick him in the groin but managed to stop him in time. Lies, pain, madness, that's all that there was to him and you almost fell for it! How could you have been so weak Bruce! You're a fool!

"Stop…"muttered the Joker pathetically. The wind knocked out of him senselessly. His vision was barely at focus when he felt another painful jab attack his body knocking him off balance. All that pent up rage was there when he couldn't protect Barbara when she was shot fatefully in the spine, for Jason when he couldn't be there for him, and for Sarah when she was caught in the madman's trap.

"Stop!" A voice just above a whisper emanated from the Clown Prince but had fallen on deaf ears on the Batman who seemed to have answered the dying plea with an uppercut right bellow the bony chin, sending the Joker to the floor. A white hand had stretched out to grab at something, anything to keep his balance. His thin thighs were shaking in labor.

"STOP!" Cried the madman. It had been too much for the mogul of mountebanks. His wits end at the violent blows the Bat was giving generously. It wasn't like other times when he was on both feet, even for him, this was intolerable and excruciatingly embarrassing. But most of all, it was heartbreaking.

The door on top the stairway had creaked open, letting in an orb of bright light, shining like a laser. The poised butler had made his way with a tray of light snacks made for two. His expressionless face however would turn into one of full blown shock upon seeing his master and his arch enemy engaging in combat. It was one thing hearing about these encounters via newspaper or from the primary source, but to see it in the flesh was more than he could handle.

"MASTER B-!!" his voice was drowned out by crashing metal breaking the trance between the two men locked in combat. It was like a bright line had shone on him, and he was caught. The Batman held his clenched fist upon feeling the bright light from the kitchen shine on him, creating an overlapping magnifying impression on the situation. He looked directly at the source, there was his faithful butler standing at the foot, looking aghast at the man he had raised since boyhood, engaging in a battle in the private quarters of his cave. And there beside him lay the Joker, bleeding, breathless, and exhausted. All his sins lay bare.

Batman let go of the Joker's shirt, and looked at his hands, he felt them covered with Joker's blood, covering him like an unwashable sin that would certainly taint him forever. This wasn't what he had intended for. He was supposed to protect the Joker even if he was the worst of the worst. He felt naked. He had been caught, found out, exposed as to how far the violent nature of the jab had consumed him, and it was beyond the capabilities of a common man. He was more than man. He was the Bat. The Monster.

No.

Monsters only hurt for their own gratification and he wasn't that. He only went after crooks, psychopaths, extortionists, murderers, and cheats. Joker was all of these and more, and he had finally had him under his thumb, under his control. But he didn't mean for this. He didn't mean to almost kill him. He didn't want to be exposed to his faithful butler, all the ugliness, all that imperfection, out in the open.

_Master Bruce_ Alfred thought. He wasn't sure if he should venture further but decided against it after Batman knelt down and released the Joker from his shackle. The next moment surprised the old butler beyond all comprehension. He took the Joker in his arms, the clown prince, wincing and groaning in pain made a pathetic attempt to push him away. Batman settled the Joker on a nearby bed he added into the cave just in case he wanted a five minute snooze. He immediately relieved the Joker from his rotted chemise and began administering tender attention to the shaking clown prince.

"Don't… come… any… closer… " Joker said weakly.

Batman ignored the complaint and instead applied baby wipes to the snow skinned man's forehead, scrubbing away dried blood and sweat to prevent any infections. He swept the cloth gently over that pure white skin. He then set some blankets and covered the quivering jester with them. He didn't want to know if it was because of the drafty atmosphere of the cave or because he was disquieted. The Clown Prince continued to whine and writhe in protest.

"Shhhh," Bruce said brusquely and much to his surprise, Joker did as he was told and lay down on the cot almost immediately while the Dark Knight wiped away residue, dried blood, and sweat. Batman meanwhile resettled himself onto the Bat computer and sought to distract himself by working on rewiring circuits to get it started again. Alfred had gone off to clean up the mess he had created and came back with a fresh batch of water and deviled eggs.

Neither man was hungry.

_I just wanted to make a small declaration on my interpretation of the Joker: I see him as a complex, deep, psychologically driven sociopath, much like his beloved Bat. However, there are some people who think that the one note serial killer angle for the Joker is better. I disagree. I see Joker as more than just the deranged retard I read in 'It's Joker Time!' (Seriously, I wish I hadn't read it, looking back. It's a cheap way to make the Clown Prince seem 'maniacal' by milking his fluid psychosis) or as a loose fruit loop like in Emperor Joker. God, what was I thinking buying that trade? Folks, save your money. The mind numbing Joker is psycho 24/7 version gets so numbing and boring. It is stories like that that make me appreciate Joker's characterization in Hush Returns; at least he was able to compose himself there and in Killing Joke and Arkham Asylum even. Seriously guys, as much as I love Batman 1989 and Batman: The Animated Series, not giving Joker human qualities just makes him a simple criminal. By giving Joker humanity, it makes him three dimensional and enigmatic instead of a one note killing machine. Hell if Darth Vader and the Devil can have origins, why not the Joker? _


	10. Cat Scratch Fever

_Author's note: Update! Yay! Thanks for the wait guys. I really want to get back on the wagon as often as I can so be patient with me. As always thanks for the faves, watches, alerts, etc. They are addicting. Thank you. Okay, now this chapter is going to be slightly different but it is pivotal in story development. We will get back to our musing couple next time. Enjoy the 'intermission' if you will. I just had to add some oomph to my subplot and I thought this was the perfect occasion, if you get my drift. Enjoy kiddies! Love your Jester!_

Setting: Post Crisis 1985 (Infinite Crisis hasn't affected me, yet, except Judd Winnick's turd fest). Think Arkham Asylum, Killing Joke, A Death in the Family with some BTAS.

Pairing: The Dark Knight and the Clown Prince. Doi

Synopsis: Things get entangled in this cat's cradle of shifting alliances and newcomers of the game.

Feedback: Por favor?

Beta: Phoenix Skyborne, thanks sugar!!

Dark grey skies cast a heavy blanket over Gotham later that evening. It did little to dampen the spirits of the inhabitants of the East End whose only refuge was the clinic made possible by Wayne foundation funds and small dilapidated arcades. It was well past midnight, the idyllic time for lions on the prowl for a midnight snack on the savanna. While Morpheus toys, seduces and operates the nocturnal wonderlands of the inhabitants of Gotham's Lower East side, for one woman, it was the perfect time to caterwaul.

A threatening deluge did little to dampen the community plagued with poverty, venereal diseases, and drug trade. The quake had rattled the tenants but not shaken them from the only place they called home. Clickety-clack replied the rain as it tapped steadily like a growing heartbeat above the canopy, and within seconds a figure emerged from her apartment. Silkily she peered away from a cracked window and leapt off her balcony with the agility and ease of a Russian Olympic gymnast. The flexing muscles adding to the nimble leaps she made on top of buildings, window sills and cable lines. She stretched her arms to aid in equilibrium, a sort of extra set of tails if you will.

From below, a tortoiseshell stray gazed up at the shadow that loomed over it and disturbing its dinner which consisted of the remains of a gutted fish.

_Meow_.

Azure colored eyes set themselves on the stray, the poor thing staring up almost in a worshipping manner at the figure overhead with large ears and an even longer tail.

"Not tonight, handsome," The woman purred, smiling demurely at the cat. It gave off another curious mew.

"Sorry puss, but mommy has some hunting to do." The lady smiled. Long black hair gave off the seeming appearance of a lion.

It watched as the two legged feline jumped onto a building and latched herself onto the concrete niche. If looks could speak, the cat would have given her a 7.6. Barely struggling, she set herself up onto the balcony sill, getting a better peak inside. She adjusted her night vision goggles giving her an infrared look at the place.

Ron Turner lay asleep looking quite peacefully alongside his off and on again wife, Dana. She worked two jobs while he supervised a crane company close to 60 hours a week. They have one small child Aaron, age 7. What Dana didn't know was that her hubby was cutting back hours at work while involving himself with the wrong crowd and is now invested in a delicate drug crime ring. Somehow, cheating on her would seem much less painful now. Perhaps less complicated even.

Ron you are lucky tonight pal. Just because wifey is at home doesn't mean you're getting away that easily. I'm letting you go, for now. If there is one thing she couldn't stand was children in danger, hell, she has seen it all, little kids used as bargaining chips in ugly settlements.

She's seen it, lived it, breathed it, and spat it back out. But if there was one thing she wasn't it was _him_. She wasn't one to barge in and create a ruckus for one lead, especially in front of family.

The Catwoman sighed in defeat, waiting for the right moment to nail him on his own, and seeing it slip away. She didn't' mind the challenge, but she cared for the child. Still Ron was a good father and husband who used dirty money to funnel into his family's lagging resources. Had he been abusing them, there would be no questions asked.

She stretched out her arm, aiming her grapple onto a gargoyle neck on a brick laid structure adjacent to Plummer Avenue. She swung over, feeling the night air touch her face, the ultimate freedom. Selina Kyle perched herself on top of the monstrous statue and hoisted herself up onto its outstretched collar before jumping onto another effigy and another and another. A dance she performed on an almost nightly ritual. They were only richer with him. He was the only one who could keep up with her. He reined her heart only to create a gap between them due to his obsessive nature. He called it order and her system a slippery slope. Still, he was a damn good kisser.

After a few rounds of acrobatic bounds, the Catwoman settled on top of an old building off on Lindley, the full moon shining a bright eerie yellow overhead, almost blinding her. Her silhouette was getting smaller and smaller as she neared the edge before stopping and savoring the beauty before her. Stars illuminating vividly looked like diamonds in a vault waiting to be snatched. This was something that WayneTech or Lexcorp factories could not take away.

Water droplets hit steadily on top of iron and pipes creating a soothing lullaby that would seduce a poor soul to drop their guard and take catnap, but a small disturbance in the pattern had aroused her senses. She detected small frequencies that came from somewhere behind her. Whatever it was it was too large to be a cat. Claws retracted from her fingers, ready to strike and pierce to mean business. She warily eyed a dark corner from the side of a doorway that lead to the staircase. Who'd wanna smoke in the rain? She crept closely behind the eight by ten foot stairwell, detecting any more suspicious sounds. It was as though it stopped upon knowing that she picked up its scent.

She turned quickly eying the dark corridor, hoping that the perp hadn't escape. Damn it, whatever it was they were gone. She turned back only to be welcomed by a pair of warm brown eyes clad in purple around them.

"Aaah," Catwoman hissed, protracting her needle sharp barbs.

"Put the claws down, kitten, last time I checked we were on the same side."

"You…"

The figure, female and about 28 responded. She reached up onto the perch and swung back onto the ground, meeting the Cat eye to eye.

"Nice to see you again, Huntress," Catwoman purred. "What brings you back onto my turf?" she groaned gripping her wrists, claws still out.

"Just doing some chores for O and the gang, you know, catching drug lord cartels, international kiddie porn rings, stopping megalomaniacal masterminds, the usual shtick," she replied matter of factly. "You…?"

"Just making some rounds, I prefer the more, for lack of a better word, grounded types. They spread the cancer fast than the cyborgs and metas you're so accustomed with," the Cat growled. Huntress took the term of endearment lightly.

Warm sea colored eyes peered through the goggles up at the other female. "Shouldn't you be watching for any suspicious activity instead of slacking off at work?" Her tone was just a timbre warmer.

"Well I did until I saw someone peeping, stealing, and being practically casual about it." Huntress sighed, scrunching up the mauve material in her cape.

"Any luck?" Catwoman replied nonchalantly as she eyed the street down below. A white sedan had pulled up. It looked big enough for a family.

"Actually, it was you," Helena responded.

"You're cute," Catwoman purred, adjusting the settings in her eye gear. "Oh, and I got your memo."

The Huntress' pique of interest increased.

"And…?" It was like watching the last seconds of a super bowl in slow mo.

"Thanks but no thanks." Catwoman leaned forward. "I prefer to do my work solo."

"There's a great benefit package," the Huntress added. Catwoman was still distracted by the horizon below. An apple green mini coup pulled up alongside the sedan.

"I'm flattered but no thanks. Besides, I don't think your boss would appreciate my prior work experience." Catwoman gleamed. She roosted on the edge of the concrete border, kneeling down, studying the interaction.

"Such as...?" the other woman asked. God she was so pushy, how much did she offer you to come after me?

Selina stepped back, standing a few feet away from the Helena.

"My boss threw me out the window after he caught me snooping around his stuff," the Cat purred. No hint of emotion in her voice. The Huntress didn't know what to make of the confession.

"I want you to really think about this. The Birds could use your Batmanesque detective skills," Huntress responded stiffly, almost desperate even

"Honey, with my work I could make a quip about birds and mice, but I'll be pleasant."

She perched herself on the platform once again.

"Catwoman-"

She would have none of it.

"Tell your daddy I said hi," Catwoman beamed before tossing herself over the ledge and flying into the atmosphere, filling her senses to life.

Work for hire, how insulting!

She landed with ease on a white and orange outlined door cover, hiding her form from plain sight and giving her better access to the activity down below. The cars were still parked but the engine on the mini coupe was still running. It could have been a typical drug ring, but nothing was going to get past her this evening. Who would invest something in a place like here?

A familiar face emerged from the edifice in front of the two vehicles alongside two helpers. One man had short red hair and was quite portly. She leaned forward pressing her right ear in the direction of the indistinct voices.

"I'm telling you Miss Romero, it isn't safe."

No way. Could it be? The Catwoman crouched down a bit.

"Spare me your pleasantries James; you were paid to do as told, not to ask questions."

Hello, hello. I knew that good girl image was phony, like that Aniston chick.

"We have all the materials prepared Miss. Is there anything else you need?" the shaky voice inquired. There was something almost supernatural about her and her rival.

"No, that will be all. Make sure he gets them."

So another party is involved. My, what a tale we weave.

"Is there anyone else?" A tall and well built hit man asked.

"Yes, just one more," Elena responded, a cool demeanor, reminiscent of her assertive placid nature in the courtroom.

The Feline gazed up at the structure; a small light had just gone off on the third floor. Approximately two minutes later, another two aids appeared carrying two large boxes each. Why would a successful lawyer want to set up in a place like this? Now there's a riddle for you, Batman.

"I think we're done here," the lawyer said coolly. Without further ado, the henchman did as told and allotted the possessions into the white sedan. Both vehicles drove away soon after. The Feline Fatale looked up at the window that had just shut out its lights. She certainly couldn't have left the place completely clean; there must have been something left behind, anything to put a clue to this burgeoning puzzle.

She had made it without difficulty to the window and settled on the ledge, ignoring the twenty five feet below her. Cutting a perfect circle and without any problems opened the window from outside, Selina Kyle crept into the now defunct office of Elena Romero.

Old papers scattered throughout the floor with plans, floor plans that is, an old turned over desk with broken down handles and other one that seemed to have some from a Macy's issue from 1978. It was so dead, so empty. It was almost as flat as her stone faced bearing. It wouldn't hurt looking into them.

Instinctively, she went over to the ancient model, a steel-like creation that looked like it hadn't been wiped in quite some time.

After a brief struggle, she shut out the handle, only to find papers from old cases and subpoenas. Some of them went back almost ten years.

You're good, really good.

She came across a black and white photo of a young girl, no more than eight and judging by the conditions of her clothes, she had a meager background. Could it be? She flipped through a few more pages before the weight of the drawer caved in and fell out of its slot, spilling its contents all over. The avalanche unnerved Selina Kyle, but was quickly dissolved until she found a file and then another and another of the same person. Crane. Crane, Jonathan they read. Catwoman's green orbs tensed.

Obsess much, Romero, she thought. She set aside the papers into a neat file only to find another interesting piece of collection. They looked like cards, not like the Joker's but larger, and wider, almost as wide as the kind worn by the Mad Hatter, except there was no sign of ten schillings and a sixpence embroidered. She then scattered the assortment of goodies before her until she felt something underneath the garble of paper. It was hard and kind of boxy. It was a cassette.

"Outdated technology?" Catwoman asked herself. She found several others all of them seemingly carrying the same title:

"Insurance Instructions" along with "How to Conduct a Proper Line of Logic" and such.

Very clever, oldest trick in the book.

All of a sudden, the door lock jiggled and with lightning speed, she dashed for a corner, waiting in the shadows behind a medium height plant. Romero had let herself in, seemingly calm until she saw the mess on the floor.

"Who's in here?!" She growled as she reached for her waistband and pulled out a small handgun aiming it momentarily in Selina's direction before scanning the rest of the room blindly.

"You're way to fast," Selina mumbled under her breath.

"Who the hell is in here?!" She repeated with more agitation this time in her tones, walking in slowly, and hands shaking. She stumbled on the pile and taking quick advantage, Catwoman leapt out her hiding place and placed a hand over the other woman's mouth and taking her hand by the wrist, threatening to spread hemoglobin if she didn't cooperate as a claw danced dangerously close to a large artery.

"Sssssshhhhhhh, just cooperate and I'll make sure you keep that pretty face for the cameras," she whispered. Her breath was hot against her ear.

"You! You're one of them aren't you?" Romero growled, her voice trembling with fear.

"I beg you're pardon?" Catwoman asked demurely. "You must have mistaken me for someone who works for the ACLU."

Romero's breathe steadied.

"No, y-you're one of those freaks!"

Isn't irony a wonderful thing?

"Now, now, we must not resort to name calling, it's so unprofessional of you," the Cat replied. She still maintained a firm grasp of the other's hand.

"Bite me," Romero spat. Now that was hitting below the belt. With that she pushed the other woman onto a chair rather hardly. The attorney was still trembling. Catwoman meanwhile still held onto her hands tightly, pressing them tightly onto the handles.

"I don't take kindly to threats, doctor, under normal circumstances the skin on your face would have been wiped clean a long time ago." The Feline Fatale purred. "But you have something I need…" She leaned in closer. "Something important…"

A thousand thoughts flooded the mind of the shaking lawyer. This masochistic Cat creature interrogating her was humiliating.

"Y-You're with that freak aren't you?" she hissed. Catwoman leaned back slightly.

"I'm sorry?" Catwoman sneered, taking delight out of the struggling lawyer's predicament.

"I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about, doc." The handgun fell out of the other woman's grip, landing right by Catwoman's left heel. She gave it a quick kick which created a loud crack in a corner somewhere.

"Now, where was I? Oh, yes," she pressed in closer, "your defendants."

"That information is strictly confidential," Romero snapped.

"Doesn't matter, I know all about your sordid little details with the Scarecrow," the Catwoman growled. A small leer formed across her face, intimidating the normally poised lawyer.

"You treacherous witch!" the attorney growled. So, there was something stirring the kool aid. She mentally patted herself on the back. Scare tactic, works every time. Gotta thank Bruce for that.

"Try me," Selina pressed on.

"Go to hell."

By this time, the Catwoman had straightened herself up and walked around the attorney like a vulture, claws dangerously close to the delicate skin on her neck.

"Sweetheart, you try living in the East Side, try breathing it and tell me that it isn't." Catwoman's sepulchral tone rattled the other female.

"Now I'm going to ask you this once, I don't want to have to tickle it out of you, doc….." Catwoman growled as she dug her claws onto the bony wrists of the lawyer.

"Did you have anything to do with the bomb?"

"…"

"Where is your defendant, doctor?"

"…" She snorted. Coughed maybe.

"What are in those tapes?" the Cat purred, sinking her claws deeper into the skin. She didn't care anymore. Bits of blood pierced through the rich brown dermis.

"Interviews," Romero said flatly. She could smell the Pantene in the black mane inches from her face.

"Of who, Michael Jackson? Jeffery Dahmer?" Catwoman pushed. The lawyer just stared ahead. It wasn't enough but the pig squealed.

"Very well," the Feline stepped back.

"You have a rep to maintain, doc, and I can respect that." She leaned back by the blinds, their shadows creating an image of tiger stripes on her form.

"I'm not one of those war monger paparazzo media types; I've brought down bigger fish with subtle means." She started for the window sill before managing to get half of herself out. But before she left, she peered back in.

"Oh and by the way doc, that rant about you and Crane, I made it up. Thanks." She smiled before taking the plunge and swung from perch to perch until she was well out of sight.

"Damn!" Romero shrieked.

Halfway around town, Selina sat herself on an empty flagpole, overlooking the growing rush hour traffic. She pulled open her bag, savoring the content she had just confiscated. Two VHS tapes.

"Somebody will be happy to see you." Selina smirked at the stolen goods before taking off into the early morning twilight.

_**Ahem, did you catch any references? Tee hee! Thanks for reading. Also, I interpret Huntress the way Gail Simone and Chuck Dixon approach her, but I feel that there is more than that rebellious daughter 'tude to her, you know. If you felt she was kind hokey lemme know! This was inspired by Killing Joke's Throwaway Card for the drugging especially and Dark Jester's The Game We Play. PS in case you're wondering about the rant between Selina and Huntress, I was referring to Birds of Prey 100. Oracle is looking for a filler for Black Canary and Catwoman was on the role call. Don't believe me? Go have a peek! I can wait!:) Any questions? Feel free to post or PM and I will be happy to respond.**_


	11. The Grand DisIllusion

_Author's note: Yay! Update! I would have finished it sooner if it wasn't for my finals and a block party weekend. My favorite gift aside from oodles of cash was KISSOLOGY. Whoot! A big shout out to all those who faved, they are really positive motivators and I am glad there are a lot of you enjoying my work. It is a very rewarding experience! As always constructive criticism is always welcome, any death threats or the like are preferred in the form of either a private message or an email. For the rest of you,my little minions, enjoy the show!_

**_I do not own Batman, Joker or any characters related to DC Comics. This is for pure entertainment purposes only, all I own are some toys, DVDs, comic books and a creative imagination. _**

Era/setting: Post Crisis

Pairing: Batman/Joker

Synopsis: Friend or foe?

Beta: Phoenix Skyborn. She's a doll!

Feedback: Sure!

Hours had passed since words were exchanged between the Dark Knight and his adversary, the former who distracted himself with reapplying and playing with the circuits and cords in his computer, plugging and unplugging, switching gears until he found the exact combination he was looking for, or a sign that he was going in the right direction, working tirelessly until he sought the desired outcome.

Red into yellow. Fail

White into green. A low buzz.

Green into yellow. Nothing.

The Clown Prince meanwhile, lay at the makeshift bed, alone, lying quietly while a myriad of thoughts raced inside his head. Never had he been so close to the dark night as he did that moment as he replayed it over and over inside his head. His smell, his touch, that jaw line, all within reach and he had let it slip. His fertile imagination coming up with an endless supply of possibilities but none ever satiating the painful truth of why things had transpired the way they did. He kept remembering the sold fine chin almost chiseled to perfection standing in front of him: Solid and focused, yes, just like him. It also gave away at the man beneath the cowl. The human with insecurities, needs, and desires, that the harlequin had so dearly craved and longed for. He was so close, and yet so far away.

Damn him for this folly! Damn him for his biological need to see him break! Damn these features that had plagued him since that day! Damn this pasty, ghostly skin and the jade curls!

The Caliph of Clowns turned over, hugging the sweat stained sheets under him, taking notice of the Batman as he busied himself with his toy, checking out the nooks and crannied like Christmas had come early. He eyed the shadowed figure almost glide from the monitor to the screen, seemingly ignored, or worst, had practically forgotten the tirade.

The Batman studied the pathetic signs of life whirring on the computer, but thanks to broken cables, snapped lodges, and a dying connection, access to the main database, much less Oracle was out of the question. She had called the Manor but Bruce told Alfred to give her the usual excuse: Out on patrol. Water had also gotten to the gears, courtesy of the tremor. Tired, hungry, and desperate, the Batman tried once again to make a connection using a barb wire from a hanger and aluminum foil, as well as one of the solar powered discs, charged via artificial light from a small flashlight that Barbara had used during No Man's Land as means to keep control and archive her log and records of occurrences in a city at a time when 20th century technology was of no use.

He got one wire and pressed it against another one, which had torn, but no matter. The circuits clicked. The computer had coughed and retreated with a slow and steady buzz. The Dark Knight leaned forward, studying the varying intricacies that might help him to another clue. A green line appeared in the middle of the screen, looking like one of those machines that kept record of a delicate heartbeat, except this one moved at a snail's pace across the screen.

The Dark Knight let out a low growl of observation.

He pressed a red button off on the keyboard's left side. It was the escape button, but it would help trigger any signs of life on the display. The result was promising but after a few seconds the burning desktop had failed to support the spraining system which gave out and shut down again, the whirring had ceased and all the lights were off.

This was the twenty-sixth time this evening he had attempted this.

In a yell of frustration the Batman grabbed the remote used to navigate the system more easily and aimed it into the screen, shattering the glass as it created a clapping disturbance, breaking the tranquility of the Batcave. The silence was maddening and Batman sought more to do to release the pent up frustration that bottled up within. He proceeded to the table and sent it flying across the floor, shattering the contents all over the place.

Heaving and exasperated, the crusader took labored and deep breaths to leash in the anger that had overcome him. The never ending search for answers had never really tested his tolerance as much as it did now. Everything was within his reach and when he made an attempt to rectify the situation, it would slip away even further. It was out of his control, slippery and maddening like the torturing laughter that echoed through the inner recesses of his mind. His heaving breaths echoed like soft murmurs of a wildcat.

Never had he felt so out of control, so fraught, nor so alone. It was reminiscent of a sense of something that he had long buried deep in his past and promised himself that he would never let it get in the way of a job.

After some moments, the Batman gathered himself and began cleaning up the mess he had made, paying no mind to the guest who had just witnessed the spectacle of raw and tangible emotion. After he was finished, the Batman had instead focused his administrations on the assortment of chemical combinations and formulas spared from his wrath. Wet paper still retained the valuable information needed to concoct another modus operandi or strategy in case the one scribbled on notes had not produced the desired effect or prepare one fast enough.

He did not notice the gaunt Clown slowly crawling away from the cot, looking like an emaciated rag doll as he dragged himself across the floor, inch by inch towards the Batman who busied himself with a multitude of remedies that he wrote down feverishly on the parchment, analyzing every little detail and shade ten fold and evaluating the possible effects ahead. A sharp pain had made it impossible to walk over as it hit the lower part of Joker's back and thighs. That bastard Crane always had it in for him.

The floor beneath the Clown Prince's frame was icy cold as it dragged across his frail chest and arms, like Arkham's floors. Unforgiving and taunting, the ground scrapped across his body, punishing his every movement with a bullying breadth of stone cold approval and objectivity.

Like the asylum itself.

Bones cracked at the Clown Prince's labored movement, who ignored the sounds as he pushed himself forward towards the destination of where his adversary stood, ostensibly too caught up in his own administrations to pay mind to the mountebank crawling on his stomach towards him.

The Knight had studied the contents down to the very last mineral, but the investigation had led to more answers that questions. Why did Crane have it in for someone like the Joker, aside from the obvious? The two had always been wary about one another, but what was the motivation behind a seemingly personal agenda? What did his attorney, DA Elena Romero have to do with it? Why was her rival so adamant about people like him? Did she have anything to do with the blast at Arkham? Everything was so contradictory and in cohesive. The snuff box in front of him had twisted and tired him tooth and nail. Everything was in front of him and yet everything was caught in a web of delicate obscurity.

Damn that Purloined letter.

The Batman's trance of deep thought was broken by the sound of raspy coughs coming from behind him, and on the bottom. The Joker looking like a sick cat eyed the pupiless slits standing over him with a familiar glare.

"Why are you up?" The Batman asked sharply, expecting a smart answer to come his way. The anger had subsided by this time.

"If you don't mind, Batman, I wanted to ask you if you could shut the hell up, some of us have work in the morning," the Clown Prince coughed. He sounded worse than before. The effects of the toxin must have taken a turn for the worst.

"I see that your little act has prevented you from seeing who's really at fault here, as usual," Batman remarked nonchalantly as he glared down at the Clown Prince like a frozen statue.

"Again with that ego!" The Joker hissed, "Can you not see that the planets don't revolve around your big head or are you ignoring that too?" Joker strained. "Well, I suppose getting hit in the head often does has had an impact on you, of course, I shouldn't have expected you to see that!" The Clown Prince protested breathlessly.

"Enough, Joker, I've had enough of your childish games," Batman remarked casually as he leaned down to pick up the frail clown at his feet. He was incredibly light. His thin calves dangled lazily on the side as he took the Clown Prince back to the bed.

"I just want to talk to you, Batman." He said weakly as he was placed down onto the bed. The Batman made a mental note to install a feeding tube to stop these hunger protests.

And some strong Vicodin.

"I have done that already with you, Joker, and if anything, you always chose to ignore me and responded with murder and chaos." The Batman muttered as he crossed his broad arms underneath that golden bat signal, highlighting who was in charge of the situation. "You might as well ask me to reason with an unreasonable person, as you have shown me time and time again." The tone was frozen and metallic. It was like talking to a wall.

"Yes, well, I did," the Clown fidgeted, "but they were stupid meaningless words! Nothing really serious. It wasn't until the other night when you took me away from the hospital that I started to reconsider and thought that you saw it too." Joker's words were even more maddening than ever. They sounded like an emotional parade of psychopathic jargon, an irrational collection of word vomit.

The Knight analyzed the confession, dead set on not wandering away and making the circumstances worse.

"What do you mean by reconsider?" The Batman asked slowly, as if trying to reach a toddler.

"Did you not ever see it? Why I kept breaking out of Arkham and why you never did away with me? I thought that you liked our midnight escapades. At first, you were a pest but as time got on, your secrecy charmed me and I got more and more addicted to seeing you, crossing paths, given the chance…" the Clown Prince huffed.

The pieces of the puzzle were making a giant grate of noise but they were fitting together. Batman could not deny the truth in the Joker's words. They both unsettled and made clear sense to him. No shade of grey would argue this statement. Still, that was not to be taken as an excuse for all he had done.

"I never really wanted to get rid of you. I need you in my life. I just thought that maybe you saw it too. We give meaning to each other." The Joker's emerald eyes shone dimly as he glanced toward the floor. The fluid insanity that became his signature trademark was overshadowed with a solid reference that even he could not deny. Never could he have imagined seeing eye to eye with the Joker but for once, he made sense.

"I just want to share my life with you, Batman, down to my very last breath"

The Batman stood aback at the Prince's words. There was no trace of inhumanity, insanity or bloodlust. They were powerful, sharp, and blunt. They pierced through the powerful exterior and into the zone that Bruce Wayne could not deny. They were not the words of a madman or a poet. They were human, tangible, and tragic. The Batman however, was not one easily to forgive.

"Well you thought wrong," Batman said sharply, disgusted at the display of absolute gross negligence. The Dark Knight had ignored the silver lining because relating to the Joker mean that he was destroyed and that would mean going against everything he had ever trained himself to be. "Flowery words won't ever clean away the sins you've bathed yourself in Joker. When you go back to Arkham, you'll rot where you belong."

The black shadow turned back, leaving the Clown Prince behind again, words falling on deaf ears once again.

"I suppose so, but with you it's always the same and yet I keep telling myself otherwise." The Joker sighed. The Batman stopped dead in his tracks, Joker's words cutting deep into his senses, penetrating the most sacred areas. "You deny truth because it is a painful reminder of our potential, our present, and our past. I suppose telling you all my little secrets was a foolish thing on my part, but no matter, I still shared them, and if I am going to die, as you say, then I have already done my job."

The Clown Prince touched the bridge of his nose. He let out a soft sigh. The Batman studied the charade.

"I guess the only person I was fooling here, was myself." The Joker exhaled softly, defeated.

The Batman had long sought to savor this moment, when Joker would finally fall and finally get it. And yet, this all felt bitter. Not bittersweet, but bitter, something he had tried once but never ever wants to experience again. Seeing the Clown Prince helpless at his needs was only a dream until now, and yet here he was and the Batman could not find an ounce of approval within him. No positive acknowledgement of subduing the Joker, nothing whatsoever. This wasn't the way he pictured it. Some pieces were missing and he felt somewhat cheated of the outcome. It didn't make sense and yet it was one of the most enlightening experiences he has had. Things were canceling each other out like equations and matter and nothing was certain.

The last comment was certainly nerve racking as Joker never took lightly with being the fool of the joke, and there was nothing funny about this. But then, the words were funny, hearing them out of the Joker was funny, and the Joker was a riot. Oh, God.

"You're not one to take lightly to jokes when they happen to you, Joker." Batman commented, standing over the Clown Prince like before.

"How many times do I have to tell you! It's NOT a joke! What do I have to do for you to see that?" Joker yowled.

"Just an observation," Batman responded nonchalantly. He was slightly bemused and disturbed at the Joker's reactions.

"Typical." Joker spat. "Everything has to be cold hard physical fact before you can accept anything!" The Clown Prince folded his arms across his frail chest, looking like agitated teenage girl who was told that she couldn't go to the prom.

"It makes grasping at the situation a bit easier for me." Batman remarked quickly.

"Always with the objectivity, if I didn't know any better I would say that based on all the little gadgets you have your parents had no idea that they were raising a pompous brat who didn't adhere to their regulations from time to time!" Joker huffed, turning towards the Batman who stared down at him, glaring.

The fire within Bruce Wayne surged within him as painful memories resurfaced and the Joker, once again, had caught truth to his words, truthful, painful words that were the basis of who he was. He tried his hardest to suppress the painful memory of the night when he lashed out at his mother and father because they couldn't provide the luxury of taking his ten year old self to the theatres for the premiere of Zorro.

A week later, it happened. Two gunshots. He heard them and flinched as if it were yesterday.

The Clown Prince's emerald-colored eyes rose from the pillow he clutched towards the dark, stagnant silhouette of the Bat. The looming shadow over him had remarked with not even so much as a noncommittal grunt at his jab, word, whatever he wanted to call it.

The Dark Knight subsided the swelling pain and turned back to return to his administrations, the Clown Prince's words seemingly falling on deaf ears.

"Excuse me?! Where do you think you are going?" Joker screeched, propping himself up from the bed, his voice seething with an immeasurable rage at such indifference from his arch foe.

"I'm working on an antidote for you, so I would recommend rest as the best remed-," But before he could continue, the Ace of Knaves cut him off with the force of lighting.

"It's ALWAYS the same with you, you big ape! Any hint of personal nature and you turn a blind eye, as always! Why don't you take off those rose colored glasses off your big head and finally see that! Even if you were to finally be rid of me there will always be someone else who will make your life a living hell! You just can't live without some pain because it is all you have!"

The Clown screeched, his thin chest heaving with the immense exhaust of passion expressed, like the contents of a bad lunch on the floor. The Joker had him cornered and he knew that he was dealt with from the bottom of the deck. The words struck him more powerfully than any other thrown at his way because it was the truth, the bare bones of it. The pit of Batman's stomach writhed in anguish because not even reason was there to help cover up any inequities because Joker had finally gotten to the deep, dark depressions of him. Reason only covered up the wounds but even they were like a drug, a remedy that would treat any disproportions, but only for a tentative amount of time. The Batman could no longer lie to himself any more.

He had to stop running.

"I've done nothing but beg on my knees for you these last few days, and for what? For you to keep wiping the fecal matter of your self righteousness on yourself again?"

The Batman sneered. He couldn't ignore the Joker anymore, if anything ignoring him would make any ramifications worst and he had been doing this for so long and giving him some time was certainly not any easier, and there was still that nagging sensation in the back of his mind, something he was not quite so ready to let go of.

"You killed three old men at the hospital, how do you think I am supposed to feel?" The Batman asked quickly. He didn't care of the response would bring upon another explosion of outpouring.

"Why can't you just believe anything I say?! Must you really mince my words to play into your favor? I HATE being ignored!!"

The outburst had generated a painful outbreak in his system, centering on the center of his pale forehead. The Clown Prince reached up and massaged the pain but to little avail.

"Hold on," The Batman spoke up, reaching towards the Joker who had pushed himself away from the center of the makeshift bed. The Ace let out a few quiet whines, irritation flying at the blasted pain that had distracted him from his previous train of thought, but it was enough for the Batman to take up arms and do what he had to do.

He picked up the Clown Prince of Crime and hugged him close to his chest, taking and settling him onto a stretcher-like table adjacent to the collection of chemical cocktails decorated on the pantry.

"Be still," the Batman said quietly. The Joker did as he was told and laid out on his back across the stretcher, temporarily shielding himself from an artificial light with a snakelike white arm over his pale green eyes which squinted from the burning light and growing ache. The detective returned with some more wipes along with strong smelling alcohol and chemical adhesives used to treat encounters with him and his peers. The Knight applied a pasty mixture to a tissue and began rubbing it across the white forehead of the Joker who relished at the tender touch of the Dark Knight hovering over him.

The Joker let out a low sigh in response to the massaging sensation on his head, studying the fine features of his arch foe with surgeon-like precision. The first thing that caught the Joker's attention was the immense beauty of the orbs of blue just above him. They studied the delicate condition of the jester with tender ease that Joker had to do a double take at the soft and gentle façade of the Dark Knight, an interesting intermission from his hard-lined and stubborn usual self.

As the Dark Knight applied gentle swaps on the Joker, he couldn't ignore the emaciated features and rotted condition of the man lying below him. The hollowed cheekbones sunken like a deserted river, and the glassy look of those eyes were irreproachable. It certainly explained how he would easily slip through tight cracks and openings with nothing to live off of but at a guess, a rotted pheasant for days at a time.

He recognized a symptom however, that couldn't be disputed. The Joker's episodes had nothing to do with Scarecrow's toxin as it only affected certain brain centers which brought along hallucinations and delusions that would last days at a time. Although he was capable of concocting a powerful agent, the signs expressed by the Joker the past two days had nothing to do with anything created at the hands of Crane. He stressed the situation and only made it take a turn for the worst. Crane knew that Joker would get the better of him and he didn't even need to fabricate a toxin to hurt the Joker, because Batman would fall for it and dig himself deeper into the hole.

It was all under his control and he let himself slip, the Joker's life was in his hands now and the guilt had risen inside of him exponentially.

At this time, the Batman ceased treatment and went back to the table laden with compound formulas and juices, feeling the immense guilt ride over him like a tidal wave.

"Batman?" he shuddered, looking like a plague victim on an 18th century operating table. The Clown Prince turned over onto his stomach, facing his adversary while he collected recipes and notes from the other table. A look of piqued curiosity had formed on the Prince's face.

The Batman still had his back at his arch foe, blocking out the words with impenetrable pain as he thought over the sin that had washed over him and it was worse than any street level because it was easting up from inside, squirming and spreading its disease. And it hurt.

"Must you be so difficult, talk to me," the Clown Prince whispered softly, his soothing voice void of any sign of dementia and evil. It was tender and albeit caring. Nothing made sense any more to the Dark Knight, everything he stood for, gone and vanished into thin air. The Batman punished himself with the dead silence, letting the guilt burn and fizzle within him. Deformed and monstrous AIDS like malignancy consuming him.

"You think it's that easy, don't you?" The Dark Knight finally responded. The attitude in his tone of voice more animal than human as he turned around to face the starving harlequin, who reciprocated the burning glare with a desperate glance.

"You think that anyone can just forget about all you have done? All the chaos and carnage for your pleasure, you're hunger for terror is something you can't erase on a chalkboard, Joker." The Batman seethed, cornered like an animal caught in the headlights. Humiliated, disturbed, and displaced.

"Your sins are the worst acts against humanity, how can-"

"I'm not asking you to forget what I have done, Batman, I'm asking you to forgive me." The Harlequin spoke softly, clasping his thin hands together, looking as if to make a point. The Batman sneered at the request, you might as well as to deny certain world genocides.

"I've already forgiven you for hurting me, especially with the way you've been handling me these last few days, and if I am going to die, as you so adamantly claim, then let me share my last days with you."

The Dark Knight glided forward until he was only a breath away from the quivering jester's gaunt face.

"You're not going to die," the Batman said flatly. The denial was almost comical to him.

"Oh, don't be such a boy scout," the Joker puckered, "we're all dying, some more quickly than others, I can't change what I have done in the past, Batman," the Prince whispered, "but I am asking that you give me this, one last time," Joker sighed. The labor required in communicating was unbearable, but he had to say it. It was now or never that determined whether the Dark Knight would take him seriously. All those encounters, near death blows, all coming down to this moment. The closeness to his ultimate goal was maddening.

"Please, just one more chance, of your attention. That is all I need."

It was the final nail that hit the coffin. All this time putting the Joker into Arkham in an endless circle of bedlam, disorder, and pain, all for nothing, and the pain had just gotten worse because the Batman knew it was all on his shoulders, all within his control and yet he turned a blind eye because pride stood in the way of the truth, the bare naked, revolting reality that he so long rebuffed.

"Joker…" The Knight strained, "I almost killed you this evening. Do you have any idea how much I violated my own personal rule of being?" The tone was firm but soft, almost as if trying to control the writhing animal in a broken cage.

"And yet, I've forgiven you. Why didn't it ever occur to you why I could never kill you? You give me reason for living! You're my remedy when I am locked up in Arkham while I cook up a way to escape that miserable shit hole!"

The Batman still was not buying it.

"Then explain to me why you concocted all those death traps or all those times you shot me in various places." The familiar snarl slowly returned, creating a familiar sensation between the two arch enemies.

"I, I don't know. I really wasn't thinking Batman; the gun would just go off. I really didn't mean it," the clown panicked, angry within himself that the forbidden fruit was so close and at the same time so far away. The Dark Knight, standing over him, a glowering gargoyle rebuked himself internally for the divide he had opened up, it wasn't helping the situation at hand at all, and he knew it, and yet it was like a reflex. Joker was dying at his feet and here he was pushing him away, going against all the disciplines he had sweat and shed blood for. He cared for all life and here he was letting the Joker slip away, and it wasn't a pleasant feeling.

"It doesn't have to be this way," the Dark Knight answered hoarsely, tired of all the charades, games, and deadly exchanges. His sense of stability broken and uneven, he wasn't sure himself if he wanted to go through with it. "I'm still willing to make certain arrangements. You don't have to go back to Arkham…"

"That doesn't matter to me anymore Batman! I'm dying I've accepted it!" It drove him almost to the edge at how casual he was to this. "All those times you've broken my bones and my jaw, made me shed blood, it was nothing compared to the mystery you intrigued me with. It was more painful than the electro shock therapy, and more tempting than Harley's cupcakes." The jester exclaimed as he got up from the stretcher table with relative ease, walking toward the Dark Knight who stood frozen like a statue.

"And yet, I still wanted more. Nothing could ever quench my thirst and despite it all, Batman…." the Joker stepped in front of the Batman with barely a foot separating their bodies. The Dark Knight towered over the Prince by two inches. His steady breaths hot against the pale white cheek which made the harlequin shudder slightly. At this proximity, the knight finally caught the look in the Joker's forest colored eyes. They reflected a glimmer of emotion that the detective could not dismiss. They were lonely, crying, and despondent. He saw that pain reflected in those brilliant set of sea green eyes.

The same drive, the same desperation, the same loneliness.

"I am…"

The next thing Joker did came as an utter surprise. It was both the most insane thing he could do but at the same time the most logical move he made. He pressed his head against the yellow oval on the Batman's chest. Green curls laid themselves lazily across the famous bat signal in a sort of possessive manner. The Dark Knight's muscles clenched all over at the act. He looked down at the field of green below his chin when he felt thin hands lay themselves across his pectoral muscles.

"…still, loving you."

The Clown Prince savored the closeness as much as he could. He had never been this close to the detective unless either one of them was passed out from a heated battle. And yet here he was in the Batman's possession. The smell of rubber and perspiration had subtle effects as the skinny clown reached back and pressed his palms against Batman's back, touching and relishing the moment. For a good number of seconds, lived the moment and forgetting the distinct possibility of his arch foe reaching up and tearing him up for an act of personal and physical violation. But he didn't care either way; he had gotten his wish with the Batman in his arms in his possession and his alone. He was against the freezing air that reminded him of Arkham, chilling, uncaring and unresponsive. The instant was maddening, he was living in a world without consequence and if Batman were to finish him off this moment it would not matter because dying in his arms would be the sweetest release: The perfect death.

He barely winced when he felt the muscular arms reach up from their sides and lay themselves around the Joker, closing in to bring him close. The Dark Knight knew no other response yet he knew what two people do in an intense moment such as this. He brought the Joker closer into his tenure, sharing that warmth and loneliness with the enemy he had never thought of in such a manner.

The Batman finally understood the pain and anguish as he let himself submerse into an expression of personal manner. The bliss and warmth shared between the adversaries was overwhelming for both men, the Joker because he thought he would never live to see such an event of personal nature from the Batman, he shivered like a frightened child and wriggled in close for more warmth which encapsulated them both in the form of a thick and flowing cape. For the Batman it was because he finally understood the Joker, he saw that anger, the passion, and the hurt replicated. But most of all, it was because he didn't have to run any more. No more places to hide, nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.

_Whew! Hope you liked it. It was very difficult trying to make the Joker human and keeping it believable but this is how I would do it if Bruce Timm or Damn, I mean, Dan Didio hired me. If you think I screwed up your vision, lemme know! And always be sure to check out Kiling Joke's Throwaway Card and Dark Jester's The Game We Play. I highly recommend them._

_Happy March!_

_XOXO TRJ_


	12. Mea Culpa

Author's note: Fee free to skip, this is the part where I go on about my mindless rambling and quick tie ins before the reading commences. I deleted the last chapter because I kind of felt it was missing something and for those of you who read it, let's just pretend that it never existed, okay? I'm taking advantage of my extended weekends this quarter so that I can write for you, my little rapscallions! A word of caution, I am like one woman plague and I will not rest until I have spread the disease. This is a dedication to my agents/fans: Phoenix, my beta, Anonymis, Queen Caroline for the add, Jokerlady for the kind words, AA for her loyalty and the many others who make this a rewarding experience. 2008, just cannot come soon enough, let's pray that Nolan will answer our prayers and give us some slashiness in his next project! Until then, enjoy the show!

Disclaimer: I do not own Batman, Joker, or any related characters. They are all trademarks of DC Comics. Anything otherwise (Larson, Romero) are my babies.

Era/Setting: Post Crisis 1985, some BTAS.

Pairing: The Dark Knight and the Ace of Knaves

Feedback: Purty please?

Synopsis: Twinkle, twinkle, little Bat, how I wonder where you're at?

Beta: Phoenix Skyborne (for some Robin related slash, check out her work!)

Time froze in the seconds that Joker had pressed his frame against his adversary's, whose response system to the move had gone haywire at such a display of closeness. The Batman stared down at the strands of green below his chin, unsure of himself for the first time ever since he took the Joker under his wing at what to do next. He didn't have to answer that in the next few seconds that followed. As seemingly if on their own, warm massive arms stretched out from the leather cape, creating a more human silhouette of the pointed eared figure and laid themselves across the Joker's back, pulling him closer. He had no rational explanation for what had just transpired, he did it because he had no proper justification for doing it. It didn't require reason, he did it just because.

Because it was the right thing to do.

A hug, a sign of warmth, magnanimousness, and acceptance.

Acceptance. That was a difficult word to swallow. It meant taking in all your past sins, laying them bare, and soaking them up and for an obsessive perfectionist like himself, Bruce found the task exceptionally exasperating. All that toil, all that pain, and sacrifice for his own ideological thirst for perfection, a drive to cleanse Gotham from the filth that had violated her that night his innocence was stolen, and still that need, that hunger to chase villains like the Joker gave him purpose, a drive, a badge that reminded him that he was important, and that he was loved. But then, if Gotham did love him, why hadn't evil ceased to exist? Did he want it to end? Did he like the edge? Did he like chasing the Joker, the midnight dances they shared on rooftops, and look where that got him, caring for the sick clown because he was too proud to admit that he was still chasing a dream.

He was thinking it, he knew that it was all an ideal and yet he still chased it. It was Fool's Errand and here he was paying the price for it. Joker was dying because he couldn't control his urges, Crane played him for a fool and succeeded, and the man who raised him as his own son carved painful words as a reminder at how far he had gone off the edge. It hurt because the apple did fall from the tree. He knew he couldn't be his father.

_"You are your father's son…." _

The way his faithful butler said them was especially poignant, almost in a condescending, shameful manner.

"Why are you so quiet?" a kittenish voice spoke up, breaking Batman's trance of heavy thought. Deep blue eyes graced themselves onto the field of green below. "I hate it when you do that….."

The Joker sighed as he adjusted his face on Batman's chase, savoring the moment to no end. He closed his hazy eyes and reveled the scent of Kevlar and sweat of the Dark Knight. The smell had comforting effects as Joker relished the pheromonal effects of the suit that had challenged and broken him on several hundred occasions, and still he came back for more. The scent sent familiar messages of comfort to his mind. It created a comforting effect as it was a whiff that he would not forget easily, much less let go off. What made it so reveling was the fact that it wasn't moving. No shadowlike reflexes or lightning speed dodges. It was like finally catching a butterfly and languishing its beauty. His ruby lips touched upon the plastic feel of the yellow symbol. He could almost taste him.

Joker pulled himself back which only caused him to move back forward when he felt the warm arms of the Bat holding him close. It was too surreal, even for him for the Bat to actually acknowledge him in this manner.

"I'm sorry," Joker cooed. It was hard to imagine that not so long ago, he was throwing a hissy fit

"For what?" Was all the Knight could come up with. He felt rather uncomfortable doing this, and yet it felt so reassuring. It was almost like a release that was long overdue. He couldn't bring himself to enjoy it.

"I seem to have temporarily forgotten that you're that strong silent macho type. I've pressed your buttons enough as it is. It's not good for the little heart," Joker purred. "And aside from that," the Prince continued as he lifted his head up to face the glowering Knight who's façade has looked as though it had been toned down to reveal a firm but tepid look to it, "I know that I could never keep you. You place your life on the line every night I would imagine, so I guess I was fooling myself into thinking that I could be the one to finally catch you." Joker sighed at the confession. It was a mouthful but it was a secret that had been bubbling up inside of him all evening long. It was now or never.

"Don't talk like that," the Knight reassured him. A hint of paternal concern was in his tones. "If anything it's me who should be the one my knees begging for penance." The voice was deep but not with the sort of husky tone that usually went along with it as used on criminals and that poor sorry lot.

"Tut, tut, look who's talking nonsense," Joker responded. Rich green eyes sparkled when they met the Batman's. The way he studied those beautiful orbs and stared into the soul of the other man was electrifying. The secrets hidden within, the emotion, all of that within reach but seeped in mystery was infuriating.

"I let this happen to you, how could you live with that?" Batman replied. The hoarseness gave away at the exasperation in someone who prided himself of composure.

"We all have our little slips ups, Batman, even you," Joker quipped as he stretched himself backwards, laying the lower part of his thin arms on top of those broad and firm biceps of the Bat. The Dark Knight meanwhile submerged himself in those words because he knew the Joker was right. It wasn't enough that he was dollying around those words but the fact that he said them himself was the ice water in his face that he needed.

"And I told you, that doesn't matter to me anymore. You made my life worth living and now that I finally have a ticking clock, I want to share my moments with you." The breathy words tingled at the Dark Knight's nerves. They were unsettling because he had never heard the Joker speak in such a manner. So warm, so reassuring, and so inviting.

"Yu don't have to be so upfront about it, then again, you are quite the showman." The Batman pondered. The seething raging monster was no more. Only a shadow of its former self remained, encapsulated by the Prince, who, if he could swear, wanted to straddle.

"I don't have to anymore, it seems. I've got your interest and that's the only therapy I want," Joker spoke softly.

It all seemed so easy and he only covered up the obvious with layer upon layer with motives, distractions which only made it more difficult for him. The silver lining was shining through, and it hurt badly because he let himself get sidetracked.

"I wish you had only told me sooner, we could have saved all those unnecessary trips back to Arkham," the Batman muttered lowly, holding the Joker close against the cold winds that seeped through the alcoves of the cave.

"Sssssshhhh, no more talk, please. I just want to hear you breathe, right here, now," Joker cooed.

A wide yawn parted from the set of red rose lips. The Dark Knight also drained from days without rest, ninety-one hours to be exact, repressed one and only blinked.

"I think it's time for rest."

The quiet stillness of the cave maintained its firm grip on the dwelling only to be broken by the occasional sound of certain flying mammals rustling and squeaking in the deep corners. A couple of them, white and grey, flapped in the distance and out of sight.

On the other side of the subterranean habitat, the Joker lay peacefully on his side. Steady breaths emerged in and out of the frail frame of the Clown Prince as he dreamt of all those lovely things that brought bright delight to his face: lollipops, fish, Chico, Harpo, Groucho, balloons, pies. Him.

He curled like a kitten chasing a mouse and let out a faint whine.

The prince smacked his lips and adjusted his position so that he faced the dozing Batman who was lying face up with his lips slightly parted. His cape acting as a blanket which barely touched the Joker's fingers lying a few inches away which were pressed together in a clutching manner.

Upstairs and away from the quiet vicinity between the two arch foes, Bruce Wayne's faithful servant, Alfred Pennyworth beat two eggs and fried them on the pan which created a loud hissing sound. He had set aside orange juice and some light toast on the tray he had prepared for his master and for lack of a better word, guest. Bruce, or rather the Batman was not big on heavy meals particularly when solving an onerous case. Couple that with his obsessive disposition and there was pretty good chance the turkey would go cold, but he needed his protein to concentrate.

When he was finished, the faithful butler added a small flower vase and made his way towards the grandfather clock. Steady steps echoed as he got deeper into the berth which created an eerie din, the kind that would produce some unease towards a novice of the cave. The scene that would come and greet him would however bring a small smirk to the old man's face. He held back a giggle at seeing his master sleeping with his mouth open. He hadn't been this amused since he once caught his master's ten year old self donning his father's work clothes. Fancy that. He set the breakfast fare down on a small table next to Master Bruce who shifted. The smell of Eggs Benedict must have gotten to him now, better skedaddle. On that note, the old butler left the brunch, oh how Master Bruce hated it when he would make unexpected drop ins, especially considering present circumstances.

It wasn't until when the door finally shut that the Joker shifted from his sleeping position and awoke to the tempting aroma, which was quickly forgotten when he caught the site of the Batman lying next to him, sleeping peacefully, and with his mouth agape!

The Joker let out a small giggle and stretched himself over to get a better look at his sleeping foe. He looked so fragile and beautiful just sleeping there. He desperately wanted to cradle the cowled face between his arms. Joker crept up slowly, not wanting to disturb the resting Knight who seemed to have made amends last night which was followed by the suggestion of slumber, of which the Joker was more than happy to comply with.

The Clown Prince studied the burly jawline that outlined the frame of those beautifully parted lips, the human remnant of the Bat that he had so long coveted and finally were within reach. They looked sensitive and soft parted that way, mounds of a soft peach color that hinted at the human within the monster reined the Joker's senses. They looked warm too. The Clown Prince, not one to hold back any inhibitions was trying desperately to restrain his innermost desire to lean in close. They were tempting him, supple and warm lips. Before he could consider further thought, the Prince heard the Dark Knight sniffing deeply and cleared his throat. With catlike reflexes, the Joker hit the mattress on his back, hoping frantically that the Batman hadn't heard him or worse yet, caught him gazing overhead at such an intimate proximity and this was his way to keep territory.

He grasped the blanket tightly but after a few seconds, much to his surprise saw that the Dark Knight was still off in dreamland, snoring a little deeper now. Joker let out a small sigh of relief only to turn over slightly, admiring the sleeping form next to him.

He looked like a giant, rumbling on top of a heap oh white snow.

The next moment came as an utter surprise for the Clown Prince whose visual savoring of the resting Knight was cut quickly when the large form of the Batman adjusted itself before stretching out a large and muscular arm towards the jester who quivered. Batman's massive gauntleted hand rested itself on the Joker's bony white shoulder, who stood frozen at the spectacle. The Batman actually touched him and not in a moment of combat or objectification as he had done, but an actual touch to bring him closer. The Joker's mind was going one thousand miles per hour at the rush of emotion that overcame him.

The next moment would bring the Clown Prince at his knees as the Batman stretched himself upwards and laid himself comfortably from the change in sleeping posture by reaching up and laying his pointy eared head onto the harlequin's chest. A flush of immeasurable pleasure came onto the face of the Clown Prince who thought he'd never see the light of day that the Batman would be this close. There was no one he could guess that had been exposed to such vulnerability and imminence, except maybe that dreaded Cat or Princess Daddykins, perhaps. The steady breaths from the Knight generated an intimate warmth that would have otherwise not been shared with anyone. And that smell, _oh ye gods_, the raw scent of the Bat. Neither blood nor sweat, but the trademark trace of human flesh.

If only he knew about it, what would he do then, though?

Joker's thought processes were shaken when he felt a strong hand land on his wrist in an attempt to grasp, as evident by how tightly the Batman had done so, which was followed by a cool breeze on his chest. The Batman had risen.

Batman meanwhile was slowly adjusting his eyes, hazily recalling the memories of events past. 96 hours without sleep had withered his mind as it slowly recollected moments with the commissioner, which usually meant Arkham Asylum. Batman's primal response went into motion as he tried harder to recollect the proceeding events past the meeting. Was he at Arkham? He didn't recall an encounter. No it wasn't inside Arkham, it was a bomb. Batman's heart raced as he fought to retrieve anything that may jog further memory. Arkham, that meant the Joker, where was the Joker?

He looked down at what he was grasping only to be greeted by a nervous Clown Prince he looked like he had been caught stealing from the cookie jar. The Batman let out a yawn, it had all caught up to him by now.

"Sleep well?" The Prince asked, hoping that an innocent yet stupid question would break the ice.

"Not really," was the only response the Batman gave as he let out a moan in pain. The muscles all over his body were aching from numbness. The Joker clutched the piece of cape to his side, did he have anything to do with it?

"Sorry," Joker said softly, knowing full well that he would be scolded or worst yet, ignored.

"For what?" Batman yawned before turning over to his side, taking the piece of Kevlar from the Joker's hand.

_I didn't think you'd want me looking at you_, Joker thought.

"Um, well, you know…." Joker said nervously, turning over to his side to face the Batman who was sitting on the edge by this time.

"Save it," Batman relied sharply, killing time and uncertainty for the Prince who was spared his explanation. "…don't make it any worst, the condition you are in saves no room for anything to exacerbate it." His tone was like iron with a hint of compassion. Joker took the words to heart and was grateful that the Batman's administrations had shifted to the breakfast waiting for them. He really didn't care for the warm meal if it meant even ten more minutes in the state he had just been in.

" 'kay," the Prince smiled sweetly as he stretched himself across the mattress on his stomach.

He had helped himself to some of his breakfast but he was anticipating the next move the Dark Knight was going to make, and much to his dismay, he stood up after only two forkfuls of his meal only to resume the work he was doing a few hours earlier.

He didn't say anything to the Joker, which frustrated him a bit, but still, some acknowledgement was better than stone cold antipathy.

The Joker sampled a forkful of the meal, and swallowed a gulp of OJ. Those two tastes were the best and warmest meals he could ever recollect. The Arkham food, if you could call it that, was cold and dry, and so he resorted to starving instead. Eddie even started rumors that some of it was actually dog food.

The Batman meanwhile went to check the monitor on the other side. The thing lay there like a broken marionette. Once a source of outside information, it was now just a piece of broken equipment. Out of frustration, he gave a kick to the steel which created a soft ringing. The boot was a successful maneuver, sort of because he now heard the familiar tone of the computer hibernating. A low buzz was whirring softly, but the screen was blank. A low heartbeat was still better than nothing. Off to the side, a small trench of water poured out of a broken pipe, which emptied itself into a crack on the floor. Still drowsy, the Batman knelt down to the pouring water first taking the dirty gauntlets off his hands and felt the stream to check for temperature. It was the ideal lukewarm temperature.

The Joker had been watching the entire thing from a distance, he barely caught another spoonful of fresh fruit before something caught his eye.

Ebony black hair poked out from the cowl, which revealed human flesh beneath it. The warm peachy tone submerged itself into the small stream of pouring water. Batman had just removed his cowl! Joker could only imagine what was on the other side of that mesh of black hair and fought the temptation to do so. He had nearly forgotten the warm breakfast waiting for him. The Joker suspended between disbelief and astonishment.

After he felt that enough residues had been cleaned out, the Batman settled the cowl back into place.

"What?" the Dark Knight inquired.

The Joker looking like a deer caught in the headlights.

"Nothing," he responded demurely. Looking innocently as he toyed with the contents on his plate.

"You were peaking, weren't you?" The Batman furthered.

"No, yes," Joke sniffed. "Maybe." He giggled softly. Grassy, vixenish eyes batted at the question. The feeling that grew within Batman was not unlike the responses he had gotten from other people, usually female. He let it go.

He settled himself on the edge of the bed, sitting down before helping himself to a proper meal.

"I just wished you'd stop doing that though."

"Doing what?" The Dark Knight turned to the Joker after a gulp of juice.

"Like what you just did right now. You catch yourself in a situation where you obviously feel incommodious and you want to wash it off almost like you have leprosy." Joker replied. He rested his head on his palm, waiting for an answer. "It's quite, well, rude."

The Batman set the glass down.

"I'm not one of those types who expresses themselves easily," was the Batman's only response. He clearly had some hesitation responding to Joker's demand, but he had promised himself that that had to stop.

"Still, I would imagine it is rather difficult on your little birds, taking orders from you as you bark them away like a Nazi commander. How do they do it without feeling sorry themselves, like they're not slaving away for you?" The Joker inquired. It was rather strange hearing a sincere question from the Joker, what was more difficult was how to answer. He knew that Dick and Tim did this out of their own volition. He never subjugated them against their will, though there had been times when they hinted at it and ignored it was weakness on their part.

"Robin does it because it gives him purpose. He enjoys the patrol as much as I do. I took him in as my own." Batman said simply.

"Oh, but what about the big one? There has to be a reason why he flew the coop. Nighthawk, is it?"

"Nightwing," Batman corrected him. He sipped two more rich mouthfuls of juice before proceeding. "He grew out of it because he wanted more opportunity. He's doing just as well as he did before."

Joker bunched up some of the fabric and pulled himself closer to the Batman, who barely noticed the shift.

"I see, but then that leads to other question, providing that you don't mind me asking." Batman turned to face the Joker, whose burgeoning considerate nature was unsettling, but altogether more welcoming. His penchant for distrust was getting to him still.

"Go ahead," He said. It wouldn't hurt, if Joker was going to, he couldn't say it, he only reminded himself that communication was better than gross apathy.

"Whenever you go about your nocturnal reveries, be it breaking my bones, Harvey's or Eddie's, where does that leave room for her?"

"Her?" Batman inquired. He had only the slightest idea what Joker was talking about, but couldn't bring himself to execute the idea fully.

"Mmm hmmm, yes her." Joker nodded. "Oh, come now, Batsy, surely you know what I mean when I mention your pussycat? Right? How do you go about with her?"

Batman clasped his hands together in deep concentration, anything that would give him an idea that would satiate the clown's curiosity. Lord, did he have to be so pushy.

"Se-Catwoman, and I are just friends. She helps me in my cases whenever she can but for the most part, she keeps to herself."

"Oh," Joker said disappointedly, almost looking like something was withheld from him, a big juicy secret perhaps.

"Well, what about the other broad, you know, the one with the long hair, Daddy's little Princess, if you care?" Joker quipped.

"Ta-the Demon is my worst enemy, and his daughter, Talia, is tragically tied to him. Everything she does is for her and her father's own bidding."

Batman gulped down some ice water, to rid the dryness that had overtaken his throat. Old memories crept back in to the back of his mind.

"So, you've never been in love?" Joker asked as he stretched himself over the mattress, lying comfortably at Batman's side. He grabbed a handful of the cape and toyed with it.

"Love is only a concept created by the romantics. It doesn't exist," Batman said flatly as he turned to the Joker.

"So, you've never given yourself blindly to someone? You've never let yourself go because it hurt you here because you couldn't stand being away from them?" Joker pointed to his chest.

"You've never felt a connection with someone, that it's almost as of you were one person?" Joker sat up, reaching over Batman, looking at him face to face.

"I thought I did," was all he said.

The Joker leaned back, not entirely sure if he could digest that bit of information. Damn you Batman, for being so vague.

"So where do we go from here?" Joker asked softly. Not sure himself if these were the right words to communicate with, but he had to keep the Bat talking. The silence was enough to drive him over the brink.

"We?" Batman inquired. It was a slap in the face to the Prince who seemed to have taken a step backward at Batman who didn't readily accept the query.

"Mmm hmmmm," Joker smiled. "Yes, we, I mean, you have been, for lack of a better word, pampering me for the last few days, it would be silly if I said Harley now wouldn't it?" He gulped.

"First eat, then a bath," Batman replied. He stood to face the Joker, who by this time had returned to lying on his stomach.

"You really have to work on your people skills, Bats," Joker beamed softly.

The Batman knelt down, the teasing insinuations from the Clown Prince, had now, for some odd reason, warmed his heart. They weren't aggravating him anymore.

"I'll do my best," Batman smirked.

_As always, thanks for taking the time to read/review/fave, it helps a lot when I'm not in the mood to read about indentured servitude in India or the history of Ho Chi Minh City. This dreaded cough is also a pain in the butt, but no matter, I do it because I love you all! We need more Bat Clown love! _


	13. Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

Author's note: Hey there, thanks for reading. I just never know when I am going to update. I swear I don't say this to tease you guys. Sometimes the mood just tickles me in all the unexpected times, you know? I was just over at a KISS fan website and one of the mods sent a gift to the admin of the place, and it was a piece of art entitled, The Kiss, which featured the Bat and the Cat in a fond embrace. It was soothing, romantic….you get the idea! I just had to start typing as soon as I saw it. Once again, thank you all for putting up with me and my weird ideas. It's good to know that my disease is doing its charm! My advice to you all, watch out for surprises. Summer's here, bleh, might as well contribute to your reading, now! Hugs and kisses!

Era/Setting: Post crisis 1985

Pairing: Batman/Joker

Synopsis: Awwww, bonding.

Beta: My bud Phoenix Skyborne. Thanks Lori!

Feedback: Appreciated. I am not one of those types who will hold chapters just because you don't. ;)

Low rumbling emerged from the Joker's stomach as he helped himself to another helping of his breakfast. His starved appearance gave away at a rutted lifestyle and yet he acted as if nothing of the sort had transpired. Batman studied him, eying him the way photographers and scientists do when they catch a rare glimpse of a predator in a placid state.

"Didn't they serve you at Arkham?" Batman inquired paternally.

"Oh, yes, yes they did, but it wasn't exactly five star fare, Batman." Joker responded. A hint of a smile gave away at the eagerness that the Batman was actually communicating with him. "They had the usual, noodles, hash browns, simple stuff like that." Joker set down his utensil before helping himself to another gulp of juice while still gazing at the Batman, who still was self admittedly amazed at how he could keep himself alive despite his delicate condition.

"You would think that city funding would be better spent on better alternatives." Batman said simply, pondering internally on how to bring up the subject next time he had a board meeting.

"True, but one man's trash, am I right? You know, I actually taught Harley how to use chopsticks?" Joker gleamed. Batman turned his head.

"No."

"Oh, yes, the silly little twit couldn't hold those things to save her life! Poor dear must have thought I was going to plop her eyes out at any moment," Joker tittered.

"With your short fuse, I don't blame her," Batman replied.

"Yes, well, you usually learn how to use those things for other purposes-" Joker caught himself off immediately when he noted an all to familiar glare in the Batman's face. A look that said it was forbidden, so he stopped. He wasn't going to risk rocking the boat just yet. There were still trust issues in the air. His mind racing at the myriad of ideas floating in and out of his mind, but they all were taboo subjects.

"So, um, you built all this?" Joker asked quickly. He surveyed the dwelling and studied the T-Rex glaring overhead.

"It's an accumulation of sorts," the Batman replied as he stood to stretch himself.

"A hobby?" The Prince queried, still looking at the Bat as he stood from his place.

"You can call it that," the Batman responded. He faced the giant half dollar coin which stood adjacent to the dinosaur. Old feelings scratched at his mind as the painful reminder of his fallen comrade's spiral to the other side tested him. It didn't have to be like this.

"So, these trophies, do they give you comfort at night still knowing what ill repercussions they may cause?" The Clown Prince inquired, staring at his own plaque which stood proudly alongside The Mad Hatter's Hat.

"Didn't yours?" Batman snapped. He kicked himself. Stupid. Let go of those ill sentiments. This is not going to work and you're doing yourself a great disservice. Stop it. The Clown shook slightly.

"Oh," he gasped.

"Never mind," the Knight said, looking for any way to make amend for the little slip up, Little. That's how he felt.

"No, no, no, it's no use trying to sugarcoat things, Bats, I-" he was cut off abruptly by the detective.

"How about we discuss things after your bath?" He stated quickly. Joker waved his index at the other man.

"Now, now, you keep up all this procrastinating and before you know it, you'll-!"

Again he was cut off by the Batman who made an interesting offer to shut him up.

"Please?" He said firmly, but before Joker could answer the Batman scooped up the slender man in his big strong arms. The Joker didn't look exactly taken aback at the move. His face contorted into one that didn't expect the gesture but wasn't expecting such gusto. Yet, he knew that there was no use arguing with someone who was at least three times larger than he was. He knew that in order to win the Batman's favor, he had to be servile.

"Okey dokey!" He squealed. "What are you doing?" He asked when he saw the Batman take a portion of his cape and wrapped it around the Prince over him, creating a blanket.

"Protection." Batman stated simply.

"For what, Batman, you don't trust little ole' me?" Joker batted his eyes, but it didn't work on the stone cold façade. "Oh, fine!" The harlequin scoffed. "You and your trust issues!" Joker chided as the Kevlar was wrapped over his head, covering him completely.

"I don't want to surprise any….unwanted house guests," a husky voice responded. They were both heading towards the foot of the stairs.

"You're too kind," Joker teased.

Alfred Pennyworth, Bruce Wayne's faithful butler turned off the golden handle which cut off the running water. A ready made bath was fully prepared in the beautifully decorated bathroom. Teal colored paper walls festooned all around complemented the peach colored square stone tiles on the floor. A silver mermaid holding a full pitcher of falling water gave it the final touch at the edge of the tub, which was a bowl shaped piece sixteen feet in diameter. Much to the old man's surprise, in came in his master holding what suspiciously looked like a certain someone underneath.

"Ahh, perfect timing sir," the old butler quipped. "Shall I prepare another in the guest suite?"

"Not for me, Alfred, but thank you for the gesture." Batman responded as he looked over the fully ready, inviting wade of water, which was tempting him to soothe those aching muscles.

"Very good sir, I shall be back with a full assortment of beauty products I keep finding in back of closets for your viewing pleasure." He was referring to the batch of bath gift sets he received from work. Safe gifts for the man who has everything.

"You do that," Batman said sternly, finally relaxing when that pesky old man took leave. Only it was until then he felt comfortable releasing the Joker from the heavy blanket.

"Do you like him?" The Clown Prince inquired, knowing full well it was a silly question that should have been best left under wraps. What were the chances of Batsy saying 'Yep, he's my bestest buddy!'? The Joker giggled at the thought.

"I've known him for years. This is just how we communicate." The Batman set the Joker down. The Prince set himself at the edge of the bathtub, marveling at the ocean like atmosphere that surrounded him. He placed a finger into the water, testing its temperature. It was still hot, but not so much.

"Do you need anything, else?" Batman broke him out of his train of thought when he presented the Joker with a box of Mr. Bubbles and a rubber duck.

"Hmmmm? Oh, no, that will be all. Wait! Actually, there is one teensy weensy thing, you can do, if it isn't too much trouble that is…"

The Batman tossed the duck into the tub before responding.

"Do you remember that one time I was caught in the headlight because of some stamps?"

The Batman recalled instantly when the series of stamps with a familiar pattern occurring in Gotham some time back and the man in front of him was sent to the brink of death row.

"I remember." He said, recollecting the slippery and frustrating pattern before he found the true culprit responsible.

"Did you really think I was innocent?" Joker jaded green eyes turned from the water to the Knight. "Was it a hunch or were you being altruistic?" The Batman took a deep breath.

"The signs were all pointing to you, but they just didn't add up," the detective answered. "It made more sense that someone was using your motif to spread their plague than you slipping up."

The Joker was fascinated at the attention the Dark Knight had given him and without realizing it. It wasn't the answer he was looking for though.

"Oh, so it wasn't a gut instinct? You did this practically?"

"Pretty much. When something yells at you that something doesn't fit, it's very hard to ignore it," Batman said matter of factly.

"Oh, I see, I actually thought you were being genuine then. Even if my pride didn't show it, I cared," Joker sighed softly. It was an almost disappointed kind of sound, as if he wasn't satisfied. The Batman caught something but wasn't willing to illustrate it any further.

"I do care," the Batman added. "I care about making right whatever isn't. I care about protecting those who can't do it themselves." Joker looked for any hint of genuine sentiment in that voice.

"Is there anything else you need?" The Batman asked, almost making a pathetic attempt to mend whatever got Joker's feelings in a bundle.

"Hmm? No, that will be all." He proceeded to rid himself of the dried and torn pants he has been wearing since his stay at the hospital. Batman grabbed the garments and tossed them quickly into the trash bin. The Joker waded in the water before fully submerging himself into it. Welcoming sensations pressed against his lithe white body which made him writhe.

"I'll be back with some towels," Batman said quickly before he shut the bathroom door.

"'Kay."

He let out small giggles before he slid down and let the warm water soak his hair.

The Batman searched frantically as he opened and shut closet after closet looking for anything that might fit the Joker, only to find an excessive amount of gift baskets, photo albums and towels which he had in hand already, a deep purple one on his arm.

"Trouble, sir?" A familiar voice spoke up.

"Nothing I can't handle, Alfred," the Dark Knight growled in annoyance. The final straw came when he opened a wooden door with its contents spilling out onto the floor creating a mess. Yarn, sewing utensils, and old baby clothes lay at the Batman's feet.

"Might I suggest a few drills to curb the stress? Tennis is an old favorite of mine, as well as picking up after you, hang gliding, and quidditch," the old man quipped.

"What?" Bruce said sternly.

"Oh, nothing sir, I really recommend the series though."

"I don't think I pay you to read on the job, Alfred."

"You were never one for tidiness Master Bruce," the old butler said as he adjusted the basket of clean laundry in his grasp.

"You're not helping," the Knight mumbled as he began collecting the items and stored them back into their spot.

"Au contraire sir, I was merely pointing out that sometimes you need to slow down to a snail pace crawl if you want to find whatever it is you are seeking, but enough Dear Abby talk, I presume you are looking for something that your guest could use?"

The Batman gathered some pins and placed them inside their jar.

"I can't find anything that fits him. I found Tim's old pajamas, but they're not enough."

"I don't think rocket ships are up the Joker's alley, Master Bruce, however, I may be of some use and I can perhaps, facilitate your search."

The Knight collected the final pieces of baby cloth and shoved them into the closet carelessly.

"What did you have in mind?" the Knight inquired. The butler cleared his throat.

"Not mind sir, have. I seem to recall one morning after a midnight gala here while you were attending a board meeting to discuss your ideas on promoting the WayneCares float for the Gotham Thanksgiving day parade. I was collecting all trace of evidence of your, how should I put this lightly, nocturnal overtures and stored it in case."

He cleared his throat once more.

"I don't recall if this was Miss Vale's or not. I thought she's might want it back, but I have yet to see her reclaim it."

The Knight was sorely interested in what his butler had suggested.

"Can I see it, Alfred?"

The old man smiled that warm paternal smile. He set down the pile of laundry in his arms to pull out the garment he held squeezed in his right arm, and presented his master with a silky lavender robe. It was the perfect fit.

"It isn't much but I will provide some extra accessories."

"I appreciate the gesture, Alfred. Thank you," Batman replied while he folded the robe in his hands. "I'll watch out for any more surprises, old man." The Batman smirked at his butler.

"Heaven forbid it, sir. I am well aware of your dire need for confidentiality, which brings me to my reason for meeting with you here."

"The Batman turned back.

"Sir, it seems that you have a guest waiting for you downstairs. Mind you, I have tried tooth and nail to steer them away, but they were most insistent."

The Batman turned toward the foot of the stairs. Alfred knew that the Batman could not be bothered under any circumstances and he was pretty good at coming up with the most believable of excuses to stall unwanted attention.

"Hey, long time no see," a familiar voice sounded off.

Great. Just great. Batman cleared his throat.

"Hello, Dick." Batman greeted flatly. He gripped the silk in his hands. "May I ask what the purpose of this visit is?"

His former ward snorted.

"Yeesh, can't an old friend drop in without announcing it two weeks in advance? Babs and I haven't heard from you in the last three days, just wondering what's up."

The loving child-like naiveté rekindled Bruce's heart slightly.

"You're to kind," he said sardonically.

"Um, okay." Dick scratched his head, wondering why his mentor had seemed so, frisky. Hey, um, she wanted me to give you this, to still see if you're going or not. Babs and the commish are going, and they invited me." He handed the closest thing he had to a father a white envelope.

"I already have an invitation. Thank you for the reminder, however." Batman took the slip and set it on a newly polished oak table.

"Hey, we need to get out more often, and I don't mean what we normally do at night. Why don't we start Christmas shopping early this year?" Dick Grayson reviewed the setting of the living room he had spent countless hours playing video games during his tenure as Bruce's sidekick all those years ago.

"I'm working on the Scarecrow case," Batman said simply, hoping deep inside that Dick, no matter how much he loved him, would get it and get out.

"They still haven't found the Joker yet, have they? This must be like, what, the six hundred and fifty ninth time he's escaped."

"He's out there. You know the drill," Bruce added dryly. Dick shook his head. It was always the same with him. Work first, play never.

"If you say so, Bruce," the younger man said before he started for the stairwell.

"Where are you going?" Batman queried with a hint of concern in his hoarse voice.

"Um, mind if I use your restroom?" A look of befuddlement swelled on Dick's face as it was something that he had done countless times over. It was practically a second home. And his first.

"Yes I do mind," Batman said sharply as he glided upstairs and subconsciously blocked his former wards way towards the occupied powder room. Dick eyes the silky fabric held captive in his substitute father's right bicep.

"Hey, if you had told me you had company over, I would understand." Nightwing rejoined.

"Didn't Alfred tell you anything?" Bruce asked, sounding more agitated than insecure.

"He wouldn't let me, sir. He told me it was most urgent," a voice popped up.

"Go use the one down the hall," Bruce nodded in the direction opposite them. "Just stay away from the paint," Batman added.

"Uh, thanks. Listen, if you have anything you need, you know where to find me." Dick knew it was no use trying to pry anything out of Bruce. He had a better chance trying open up a can with bare hands.

"Thank you, Dick. I will see you in two days," Batman replied before shifting away in the other direction. His cape swishing along behind him before disappearing into he long hall of the manor, making him look like a mysterious phantom venturing deep into the abyss once again.

"Don't take it personally, Master Dick. Master Bruce has so much on his mind, as always," Alfred comforted the young ward.

"I know, Alf, I just wish he could tell me what was on his mind sometimes. Did you see how jumpy he was?" The young man sighed.

"He's always been that way, young master. Always," Alfred said warmly.

00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Water splashed to the side of the tub, adding more to the mess Joker created as he shifted. Bubble puffs settled themselves below his brilliant grassy eyes, giving him a predatory look as he eyed the rubber ducky sailing by.

"Little birds, my favorite hobby," the Joker said to himself. He pawed down at the toy which created another splash of water. Bubbles boiled over to the side.

"Take that Ozzy!" Joker shrieked at the toy which squeaked in response. Joker laughed before he sat back and relaxed after the tirade. He applied some water to his bruised arm which miraculously washed away all remaining residue that had pasted itself onto his skin which was now pearly white and glowing radiantly. His hair, which instead of maintaining a shaggy, disheveled appearance was now sleeked back and clean, free from sweat and dirt that had afflicted him for some time. The bar of soap had slipped from the Clown Prince's fingers. The the door opened to reveal the Batman with some extra supplies at hand.

"Having fun?" the Knight inquired, shutting the door.

"Oohoohoohoo! I haven't had this much fun Harv and I reset the alarms at Arkham!" Joker giggled loudly. "What took you so long? I was starting to get worried there," the Joker responded, completely forgetting what he had been doing only moments before.

"I just needed to get a few things for you." Batman set aside the robe, as well as something extra Alfred provided for him seconds ago. "I don't know your measurements, so I couldn't get my butler to make you a purple suit. I hope this will suffice." Batman tapped lightly on the garments set on top of the sink.

"You're too much, Bats. What would I do without you?" Joker gleamed at the Knight.

"Starve yourself most likely," the Batman responded stiffly. He was starting to see how it was easy for him to escape even the most impossible of traps. One on hand, he held the purple silk while on the other his arm stretched out, telling the jester that bath time was over.

"Already, poopsykins? You can be such a killjoy," Joker huffed as he reached over and grabbed the fluffy purple towel, fresh from the dryer.

"You're going to catch a cold if you stay here long enough, and you need more bed rest," Batman said softly. The Batman waited patiently as Joker rubbed the towel over his jade green curls, before moving down his chest, small hips and so on. He dried his feet on the aqua colored carpet below the tub.

"What?" Joker asked quietly when he caught the white slits staring at him.

"Nothing, it just never crossed my mind how difficult your life was before the other night," Batman said quickly. He studied the varying scars that festooned themselves all over Joker's body like artwork. Healed bruises that looked like lesions and cuts on a few places on his arm looked like trophies on Zsasz.

"I've never given it some real thought, to be honest with you," Joker stated simply. His face contorted into one as if he had been given an insightful thought.

"Where did that come from?" Batman asked sternly as he pointed to a abrasion below his shoulder.

"Oh, that? I haven't noticed it before, but you did give me a nasty punch on top of a running train once. It hurt like hell too. Funny, I seem to have forgotten it." Joker patted the discoloration as if he had newly discovered it.

"Ow", he mouthed.

The Batman reached back in time and remembered the battle on top of the Gotham Expressway. All that animalistic anger exploding out of him, blow after blow, each more punishing than the last. It felt justified then but its lingering memory has come back to haunt him.

"I'm…" Batman began, an uneasy tone barely above a whisper. "Here." He stretched open a new set of pajamas custom made for the Joker. It was a matching set of off white, a tank top and cotton pants. "Try it on," Bruce said softly.

Joker took the items and placed them over him before putting them on. The shirt fit rather comfortably as it showed off his sleek figure. As soon as he pulled the pants over his hips he turned his back towards the mirror, reviewing how they looked on him.

"I like it," Batman chimed in simply. "The color suits you." He added in an almost magnanimous manner as if he was making up for something.

"I do too, but there's something missing. I can't make a statement in just this, Bats. Don't you watch What Not To Wear?" Joker mewed. With that Batman presented him with the silk robe, which Joker took generously.

"Oh, what do you know? It's perfect." Joker smiled, happy with the result. He stretched his arms wide, spread eagle.

"I thought you might like it," The Batman replied. "It's not much but I don't think you'll be needing your tux any time soon."

Joker smacked his lips.

"Please, anything from you is never too little." Joker smiled sadistically. He reached his arms over the Batman's broad shoulders. "Shall we?"

With that, the Batman scooped up the Joker, who instinctively took a handful of robe and placed it over himself.

Even in the secret passage way that was decorated with cobwebs and dust, the Batman took note of the fragrant scent he detected from the Joker's newly washed locks.

"Gardenia?" A gentle voice probed.

"Mmm hmmmm, I hate lemon. Nasty stuff that is," Joker replied meekly.

"I hate it too."


	14. Beautiful Stranger

Author's note: Hello again, I'm just taking a break between writing a critique and finals week to sneak in a new chappie for your reading pleasure. Thanks for looking, I hope I'm living up to your expectations, even if no one said otherwise. I see so many hits and think 'God, I hope they liked it, even at the slightest because it is my duty to give you nothing but the best and I strive to stay away from self satisfactory creations a la Grant Morrison's 'Clown at Midnight'. Oh, and I strongly urge you to buy Danny Elfman's scores for Batman/Returns. They are eerie, romantic, and soothing, perfect for the drive home. Hell, get anything by Danny Elfman. The man is frickin Midas! What he is to musical composition and soundtracks is what Alan Moore is to comic books.

Era/setting: Post crisis mostly, with a hint of OYL. I'm using what Paul Dini calls 'loose continuity'.

Pairing: The Dark Knight/Clown Prince

Synopsis: Awwwww, more bonding, and a secret from the Joker's past is revealed.

Feedback: Sure!

Beta: Phoenix Skyborne.

After the comfort of a lukewarm bubble bath, the Joker was in a tingly state of euphoria. The tender comfort and care that Batman provided made him feel aglow on the inside. He contained his newfound bliss within a hint of a smile which gleamed under the robes of the resident Dark Knight and went undetected. The swish of robes coincided with steady and firm footsteps which echoed throughout the corridors of the Batcave. The resonating sound of bats chirping greeted the two arch foes, along with the airy flapping of skin borne wings. A song of desolation and loneliness that their master has long grown accustomed to.

Joker's stick thin legs dangled along side the toned muscular bicep of the Dark Knight, which reminded him of his captive's weak state. It was amazing and also unnerving to imagine how many bullets and stab wounds he had survived. He was like a cat.

"There you go again," Joker cooed underneath the thick cloth of rubber.

"Doing what," Batman muttered.

"You're so quiet, it's no good bottling all those fiery emotions inside of you," the Prince responded, sounding concerned.

Batman gazed down at his robe, "Said the man who can't rein his."

"Hey! Was that supposed to be a funny?" Joker pulled the cape over him, exposing a clean face that shined healthily. The field of green hair was glowing brightly like new life was kissed onto him. It was hard to imagine him in his poor decrepit state only hours ago.

"Absolutely not," Batman said firmly.

"Oh, and I was just about to look out the window and look for any signs of piggies with wings," Joker said softly.

Batman smirked. At least that's what Joker thought it was. His lip curled in an upward position and he wouldn't mistake it for anything else. Unless Batsy was chewing something.

"You can't be bouncing around like that, not in your state," said the detective, still looking ahead.

"Mmmm, and why not? Surely you've never read Doc Arkham's reports, I'm as healthy as a horse! Not even the germies Princess' daddy set loose got to me!" Joker said with pride.

"I told you, I don't trust Jeremiah. His methods are for lack of a better word, medieval." Batman said plainly.

"Oh, why do you think that?" Joker eyed the Bat with awe. Looking for a hint of that leer he swore was glued onto the Bat's face.

"Because if they did, you wouldn't have been stuck there-"

"-wasting tax payers dollars?" Joker smiled sweetly.

"Let me guess, did group therapy sessions work?" The Batman asked as he arrived before the cot he had slept in, only to find that it had been changed from white sheets to satiny purple ones. Now that he thought about it, he never saw them before. Must have been a gift from one of his staff at WayneTech. He made a note to tell that old man he would cut off his allowance for sneaking into the cave like this.

"No, not really, now that you mention it." Joker placed his bony chin between his index and thumb.

"How about role play?"

"No, but it was quite a hoot seeing Croc act like Pam." Joker gleamed happily reminiscing at the thought.

Batman sneered. "How about, finger painting?"

"Oh, you tease!" Joker giggled. "Heh, no but only for a little while. Apparently the place couldn't afford anything but paint tubes."

"Thought so," the Knight responded. He set the thin clown onto the bed gently, to which Joker started testing the new sheets making himself comfortable.

"Comfy?" Batman inquired. Joker looked up at the pointy eared head.

"Oh, yes, very much, thank you. I love the color, not something I would find in your wardrobe but the tint is just right." Joker said silkily.

"I'll make sure to thank my butler," the Batman said flatly. He looked back at the barely alive bat computer, of which he only had minor success with earlier.

"What are you going to do now, Bats?" The white skinned man queried. A hint of worry overshadowed his face at the realization that bonding time was nearly ending.

"I'm going to see if I can fix the computer and see if I can find any sign of Crane or the others." The hoarse voice replied from the shadowy figure.

"In other words, going back to work," Joker said quickly, sounding frustrated by the sprinkled language as if it was used to underestimate him.

"Yes," was the only response. Joker sighed.

"What?" the midnight black shape prodded. Joker caught the hint of concern, but didn't want to expound on it without the risk of getting disappointed again.

"Nothing, well, I suppose it is sort of foolish of me to ask, but is that all you ever think about?"

"One of us has got to keep vigil, and it certainly won't be you." The Dark Knight's voice glazed with determination. It would be a fool's errand to work around it. You had a better chance of stealing a bear cub from its mother than changing the Batman's wishes.

"But don't you get bored being cooped up and all this? What about when your little birdy is at day care?" Joker chirped.

"Never." The Batman grumbled. If anything it kept him going.

"So then, you don't mind if I kept you company?" Joker's bright forest colored eyes gleamed hopefully. "I promise I won't draw funny faces on the walls."

A low rumble escaped the Batman's throat.

"You need to sleep," he said as a last attempt. God willing if he listened, it would have been easier for the both of them.

He had no time to be practical with him.

"I'm not sleepy!" Joker crossed his arms across his thin chest in defiance.

"Joker," Batman lolled on.

"Make me!" He stuck out his tongue.

The Batman let out a frustrated sigh. It was no use. Trying to make the Joker do what he wanted was like a telling a two year old to be quiet.

"Fine," Ideas that would pacify the Joker were swimming in his head all at once and it was difficult to pick out just one. "Would you like to read something?" The Batman offered. Joker thought over the gesture.

"What do you have?"

"Anything and everything." Batman said firmly.

"Hmmmmm, how about Steinbeck? Vaughn? Do you have any Rice?" Joker asked kittenishly, lying on his stomach and crisscrossing his fingers.

"I'm more of a mystery type, I'll see what I can dig up," the Batman added, checking off a mental list in his collection.

For some reason, the Prince couldn't picture his Bat engaged in any of the titles he indulged in from the asylum library. Nietzche didn't sound tempting right now, and

"What do you like, Batsy?" Joker rolled over to his stomach and bending his wrists, looking playful.

"Why do you want to know?" Batman asked, not quite sure what to make of the attention.

"Because..." Joker said, looking at him while readjusting himself to an upright position,"...someone as crafted as you has crafted taste."

"What's the supposed to mean?" The Dark Knight asked softy, noting how cute it was for the Joker to be playful like this.

"What I mean is silly, that you probably read a lot and have taste beyond the usual." Joker smiled.

"Very well, you caught me," Batman admitted.

"Aha! I knew it! So spit it out!" Joker gleamed. Batman cleared his throat.

"Well, I am a big fan of Charles Dodgson's work."

"Through the Looking Glass?" Joker gasped, obviously surprised at the confession. He half expected an answer like crime drama or historical fiction.

"I have all seven versions, including a rare copy signed by Tenniel," the Batman replied.

Chopping off heads, talking caterpillars, and fluffy rabbits sounded like a bad acid trip, Joker thought. Of course there was also that tea party.

"Sounds tempting, but not tonight. Mad Hatters are not my cup of tea." Joker said demurely.

"Are you looking for anything in particular?" the Dark Knight interrogated. He half suspecting he would request something like the biography of Oscar Wilde or Lord of the Flies.

"Um, no, not really," Joker said, half confused. "I know! Why don't I keep watch for you?"

Batman's eyebrows rose up underneath the cowl, barely hinting through.

"What?"

"Oh, don't be silly little Bat! Lemme keep guard while you do your thing! I promise to be a good little clown! The worst thing I can do is make a funny face behind your back." Joker smiled hopefully.

"You sure?" Batman pressed on, uncertain himself if he was comfortable with the idea just sitting there like a trained cat.

"Oh, most certainly! You won't even hear so much as a peep out of me, to top off the bill!" Joker's eyes glimmered.

Batman cleared his throat.

"I just don't want you to be bored."

Joker sat up at the edge of the bed.

"For you, anything," he said simply.

On that note, the Batman carried the Joker across the alcove and settling him onto the chair. It wouldn't do any harm if he wanted to play with the various keys because the processor was dead, for now at least. The Clown Prince sat back onto the large chair, making himself comfortable while the Bat busied himself with the monitor which was located a few feet away, and required attention under the table.

"Don't touch anything, and just be careful with the weapons hoard in case it opens up suddenly." The Batman said warningly.

"'Kay," Joker smiled before the Bat prepared himself for his duty and crawled underneath the table, facing upwards leaving the lower half of his body exposed into the open. It reminded the Joker of a dirty joke and giggled softly.

He turned to the keyboard which was glowing decorated with numerous buttons, put there as such as if to confuse anyone trying to scythe into it. The steady buzzing coming from off-screen caught his immediate attention. He rose from his seat to study the mechanics of the Batman's most interesting plaything. He marveled at the size of it and noted the steady changing of colors of two small lights to the lower right corner. It looked like one of those things that record heart beats. His attention was reined by a shining green signal off to the corner of his eye. It looked hot too.

"Joker, do you see something glowing?" The Batman muttered from beneath.

Joker nodded. "Mmm hmmm." He caught it too.

"Do me a favor, press it," the Batman demanded.

"Are you sure, Batman?" the Joker asked, not sure if the thing was going to explode or not because it was glowing more strongly now.

"Just do it. I know what I'm doing," Batman grunted from below.

Without hesitation, the Prince pressed his thin palm onto the green buzzer, which startled him when a cache settled adjacent to him snapped open, revealing a collection of batarangs, grapples and other neat gadgets. He picked up a metallic bat shaped weapon and ran his thin fingers alongside its sharp edges, amazed at its sharpness. Not blunt or crude, but cut just at the right angle to penetrate skin, and with added pressure, vessels. He turned back at the open space and angled his wrist. Quickly, he flicked the weapon in a pathetic attempt, in which it hit a glass cover and bounced back before hitting the cold floor. It bounced off a piece of what looked like plexiglass off in the dark corner Joker flinched and turned back at the Bat who was still busy, and perhaps didn't hear of the tirade. Joker bit his lower lip, but his curiosity couldn't be quenched when he noted a hint of something inside the glass container.

He took slow but assured steps towards the trophy, which he treated like a grenade about to pop. He was no more than ten feet away before a giant mass of black overwhelmed him. Two white beady eyes staring down at him. Joker stood aback, startled.

"What are you doing?" A dark voice tensed, breathing down the Joker's face.

"Um, nothing," Joker whimpered.

"Doesn't look like nothing," Batman spat as he stood over whatever Joker wanted to examine defensively, hiding it like a dirty secret that had barely spilled open.

"I told you not to mess with anything," Batman said calmly as he stood out of the shadow.

"I-I didn't, I was only going to-" he looked down at the floor. Batman did the same. He quickly grasped the bat shaped weapon into his thick hand, holding it tightly as if trying to contain his fuse. Joker turned back ashamedly, biting the tips of his fingers nervously.

"Batman," Joker whispered. He had obviously tracked on something, something that was held deep in the depressions of the Batman's lair of secrecy. Usually he would shrug it off and resume what he had been doing, but not this time. Whatever it was it was personal, and he would find out. If there was anything he hated more was to be left out in the cold, wondering, and helpless. Here was the Batman at his knees, bleeding silently and he wouldn't cry for help. Not even at the Joker's feet. And it irritated him.

"It's nothing," Batman said swiftly in an attempt to calm himself down. It was no use getting upset at everything but he was so dangerously close to peeling back and opening an old wound. He tried to so hard to convince himself he had gotten over it. It was just a comforting lie, a lie to mask up his true motives. His true feelings. And what are feelings if you don't share them with anyone? Just phases. He had licked his wounds long enough and it was no use coming back to them because the damage had been done.

"No, it isn't, isn't it?" Joker said in a raspy voice, detecting a insinuation of deceit in Batman's voice and body language. If Batman wanted to fix things, then why wasn't he sharing?

"Joker, drop it. It's nothing-" Batman coughed nervously. He reached a hand and patted the Joker's angular back before he was pushed back aggressively.

"Oh, come off it! You can keep playing Mr. Tall Dark and Handsome all you want but you can't fool me, Batman!" Joker spat angrily. The Batman grumbled.

"You think that I can't tell between your little act and when you are acting out of spite? How long have we known each other?! I know what your favorite shampoo scent is, how many brats you have! I even know what your favorite sleeping position is for chrissakes!"

Joker heaved breathlessly. Batman rolled his eyes out of both frustration that he hadn't gone back to fix the micro inequities off the computer and because of discomfiture. He had good reason, but he swallowed it up before the thought could take full effect in his mind.

"And your point is?" Batman said stubbornly.

Joker let out an exasperated gasp.

"My point is, Batman, I don't understand why you are so insistent making bygones and yet you still keep me at an end!" The thin clown shrieked.

The Batman's white eyes opened widely.

"I'm still not following you," Batman continued. "You keep saying that I'm the one who keeps tabs on things. Did you ever think that maybe some people take time to open up?" The dark penetrating voice struck a chord in the clown's thin body.

"That doesn't mean a free ticket to keep yourself all coiled up like that," Joker struck back. His face contorted into one of spite and bitterness. "I thought you trusted me…"

"I do trust you, Joker. However, there are some things that should be kept confidential even in the closest of associations.

What a wonderfully politically correct word to describe them, Joker thought. _Association,_ that suggested distance, not the intimacy that he so craved.

"There you go again! Here I am trying to make amends and doing nothing short of my utmost to communicate with you and you still don't make an effort! Are you that bullheaded!!" The Joker hissed.

"Some secrets are best kept under wraps," Batman stated nonchalantly.

Joker threw his thin arms up in the air.

"Again with that phoney baloney!" He screamed.

Batman drew a deep breath.

"You want to make amends Joker? You want to talk about breaking barriers? Be my guest," Batman replied aggressively, growing more and more annoyed with the bitter jabs thrown at his direction. If Joker wanted to play this game, he was going to do it by the Batman's rules. Never mind the fact that he was wandering around where he shouldn't be or that he had this mischievous nature, but to prod him around in this manner was pushing it.

"Very well, you want to talk about trust, about opening and sharing? You want to talk? I'm open and ready."

Joker's eyebrows stretched from a tensed angle to ones of curiosity. He wiped the fluff of hair in front of his forehead back.

"I just want to talk to you, Batman, no second thoughts." Joker sniffed, his eyes looking almost watery. He wanted to bridge himself closer and his chance was spoiled. All this time, being at arm's length with the Bat and the opportunity withered away in moments.

"I would like that very much as well, but you need to be realistic about these sorts of things, and I'm willing to cooperate." The Batman states clearly and concisely. The Caliph of Clowns traced a finger along the edge of the yellow symbol.

"Do you mean it? No tricks?" Joker asked meekly.

"Is the Pope Catholic?" Batman snapped. Joker let out a small chuckle.

"Under certain conditions, of course," the Batman stated fast. The Joker scoffed. The skin around his eyes crinkled in disgust.

"Of course, what else am I to expect with someone who keeps himself bottled up and has to be driver's seat!" His teeth gritted. "Methinks Pat Robertson would have problems with someone like you!"

"It's only fair, Joker, if anything you should be grateful-"

"It's always the same train. All you believe is in a fascist way of running things to fit your little perception!" Joker screamed, feeling cheated. It was as if Batman was purposely creating this distance to keep him at bay. The gap was wider.

"I believe in quid pro quo, and I have been more than generous with you." The Dark Knight responded, leaving the Joker flabbergasted. In a sense the Bat was right, but he couldn't or didn't want to see that communication was not the same nor any less than a warm bed, a hot meal, and a bath.

"You barely even spoke to me all this time-"

"But I'm doing that right now, and I believe it's your turn, Joker, if you're still up to it."

Joker gave off a conceited huff at the request, but he had no chance against a man who was 75 pounds heavier than he was.

"Well, what did you have in mind? Why I did all those things to get your attention? Why I said I poked Pearl's eyes out when I didn't? " Joker screeched. "I told you already-I"

"No, no, not that. I actually had something else I wanted to ask."

Joker's brows arched.

"How about a name?" The Batman asked plainly.

"My name?" The Joker said discreetly.

"Mmm hmmm," Batman pushed on, leaning back against the wall behind him and crossing his broad arms.

"Oh," The harlequin chirped as he looked around the place as if he had lost something. It was clear that it came as a total surprise. Batman caught a notion of aloofness in the Joker.

"What's a matter, Joker, didn't you want this?" Batman said firmly. The moodiness did little to sway the Clown Prince. He reached behind his neck and began to massage the skin. Still, he said nothing.

"Oh…….that was unexpected." He said quietly.

"What is?" Batman said in a paternal voice. He leaned forward slightly.

"I, the fact, that, oh, god, no one's never really asked me that question." Joker said finally. He fidgeted with his fingers in a cat's cradle.

"What do you mean by 'never really'?" The Batman shushed. The soft growl was more comforting than intimidating.

"Um, I mean, no one's ever asked me that in particular. All they wanted to ask was the usual schtick, who were your parents, did you father molest you? Was your mother a drunk? Is there sexual gratification when you pull out the bone marrow of your victims?"

Joker placed two fingers on his forehead.

"So in other words, they didn't ask, who were you?" Batman deduced. It was one thing to be identified by the attachments that surround you, but a very different thing altogether when dealing with an individual with unique traits, and he wasn't going to dwell on that any longer.

"Basically," Joker said meekly, looking tired when he faced the Batman.

"Okay," Batman said apprehensively, "let's start over." The shadowy figure crept closer to the emaciated Clown Prince who began to shiver as if a cold hand had reached into him.

"Who are you?" They were three simple words, but sounded like gongs at a thousand decibels going off. Joker flinched at the first part. It was as if the name carried some sort of plague. The Prince was in deep thought, looking thoroughly in the deep forests of his mind, overlooking the murkiness that had lurked there. Secrets long kept hidden were creeping up and twisted him. They weren't the ones he was ready to face again.

A name, a sort of clarification that both categorizes and humanizes people, places or things.

Something sprang up within him that echoed a faint familiarity amongst the dense grey.

Grass colored eyes flinched as if holding back tears.

"Joker," Batman prodded on. He loosened his grip and reached out by placing a large hand on the Joker's bony shoulder.

"Sssshhh! Not that!" The clown murmured. A swelling rose up within the Joker that made his insides twist. He couldn't keep it to himself any more. No more chaos and mayhem to mask and comfort the insecurity. A familiar notion crossed the Clown Prince's mind. A feeling of helplessness that he wanted expelled out of him and the Bat in front of him, offering that warmth. A feeling, where did that come from? It was both alien and soothing, but that was a long time ago, and that was way too long for him to hold any sentiment to that particular object, whatever it was.

"Jack," he said finally. "My, my name is J-Jack." His voice was shaky and choppy. It looked almost like an exorcism.

Batman made a small non commental noise. He then placed both hands on the Joker's shoulders to both sustain and comfort him. It was clear that he had crossed into a forbidden zone. A weak spot in the Joker's psyche, but that was a minimal cost if he wanted things done right. No more secrets, no more shadows, no more mystery. They had been doing this dance for far too long and it was time to change the routine. It was a long time coming and it was bittersweet for the Batman, who knew full well that it would be a matter of time. If not death, then a moment like this. But death wasn't so far away now he reminded himself.

"Jack." He said clearly. This was a break. He felt a huge weight lifted off his back for the first time. It was definitely a step in the right direction for both men. The Bat and the Clown made a connection, the former, stripping himself of his moniker added another depth, one that would resonate with his 'new' self. If either didn't know any better, the bath was a sort of Baptism that freed the Joker and especially the Batman from their manacles.

The Joker looked up at the Dark Knight, the man who foiled all of his plans, the one who challenged him at all levels, the same man who broke more bones in his body than he could remember was now his redeemer, his liberator.

A spark transpired itself between the two former arch foes. Joker searched desperately for a sign of warmth and acceptance on the Dark Knight's part, not just words. He finally found it when he felt a gloved hand reach itself beneath his chin, holding it tenderly.

"I like it. It suits you."

A glint of a smile formed on the jester's face, acceptance.

_I hope you liked it. It was a challenge in both a positive and negative sense but I finally did it! I just hope it was believable for you. If you think I just butchered Mr. J don't hesitate to tell me. I was going to add more to this chapter but after seeing how long this was I decided to wait until the next installment to continue this peeling away of clandestine covers. XOXO _


	15. Old pasts revisted

_WARNING: NOT a new chapter. I made some changes due to free time and realized how I could have done a lot better. I hope you take the time to read again. As always feedback is appreciated, it let's me know if I'm doing my job! The last thing I want this to look like is a Mary Sue to the tenth power. Happy Memorial Day! I'm sorry if I disappointed those who thought that this was a new chapter. I'm sorry but this is probably the last time I will update before finals, but don't worry, I have a new chapter in the oven. I just need to sit down and type it. Please be patient and forgive me if I affected your sensibilities but I just can't concentrate when I have other priorities at hand. _

Era/setting: Post Crisis 1985.

Pairing: Slash, shounen ai, yaoi, call it what you want!

Feedback: Purty please.

Synopsis: More secrets are uncovered.

The room had suddenly felt warmer, and he wouldn't have it any other way. All those trials, moments of innate connection were finally lifted like a thin veil. All those shared moments finally realized and yet a part of him had not felt he had atoned for his sins sufficiently, so he pushed away slowly from the Batman's welcoming embrace, only to be pulled back into the loving arms of the Bat. Soft, comforting sounds emanated from the Clown Prince who felt the Dark Knights gloved finger trace along the jaw line and side of his face. Batman studied the immaculate whiteness of the Prince's skin which shone a brilliant shade of milky white. No longer dry and cracked in the dark shadows of the cave, it actually looked soft and inviting, like baby's skin. Batman could still smell the lavender on the Joker which he didn't want to admit drove him almost to the brink. Most of the women he had dated and had short term relationships with reined him in with perfume laced with the scent of rose water.

_Short term_. The words clanged in the deep corridors of his mind. Everything had to be done in a fleeting moment, tie and gag a mobster, stop a rapist from attacking, encounters with any of his archenemies which left little room to develop, savor, and appreciate the other important people in his life. He kept them at arm's length because he didn't want them to get hurt.

It was all a lie. Excuses to save his own skin.

Jason was that example. He kept him at a distance because the memories of the previous owner of that costume were still fresh, but his ego wouldn't let it heal, and his pride kept others away from people that cared about him. He silently reflected on his extended family and a thought that gripped his dry throat on how his need for privacy was costing him the people he loved most of all. Dick left because he grew tired of his obsessive compulsive nature, and he almost lost Jim Gordon as a friend after the quake. The reunion was a discomforting one. There was also Talia, and how she became a pawn for her father's selfish greed for a utopia. Poor Talia, blind by the love she had between two men at constant odds, neither fully tending to her needs because of arrogance. As a result, she went to Bane, and eventually Metropolis where her whereabouts are as mysterious as herself. Batman felt his insides twist.

The Knight coughed, ridding himself of the growing discomfort of the dryness that had suddenly invaded his throat. Joker looked up at him with those needy green eyes.

"Stop it," Joker whispered. A voice barely attached to those words.

"Stop what?" The Knight replied, feeling uncomfortable with the exchange because he always had the answers, a second plan. This was new ground and he was a helpless novice. Weak and useless.

"Stop looking at me like that. Like you want to say something but you kept holding back." Joker petted the side of the Bat's face. "You are so uninhibited, loosen up." He smiled sweetly.

"I can't loosen up Joker. I'm as wound up as a time bomb." The Knight stated. Even his voice was cracking as he confessed. The truth never felt so painful or so liberating.

"But you are talking. That's all I asked. Just say what you feel," Joker offered.

"Batman doesn't feel. Batman thinks," The Knight added. He stressed each of the words, hoping they would hammer any sense into the Joker now that they were on the same level.

"Then tell me what you are thinking then, just….anything that comes into your mind." Joker pressed on, tickling the bottom of Bruce's jaw. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined being this close to his Bat and if this was a dream, he might as well see if he can get a giggle out of him.

"You really like to talk, don't you?" Batman said hesitantly, feeling it was a stupid thing to say but there was nothing else he wanted to say in the game of word catch.

"…..and Wheel of Fortune. I like to communicate, with you especially. You're so quiet I can only imagine those gears working inside your little head. I just want you to share with me." The Joker said warmly. It was an undeceptive kind of beam. The detective glanced down on the mossy field of green below his chin, patting it softly in acknowledgment. He sighed deeply, as if letting a heavy burden lift of his mind, which was at all this time dragging him down to a crawl. It felt like finally breathing, or learning a new way to breathe.

"I hate not having clear answers," Batman added dryly. Everything was so trey and murky. He had a promising lead in his grasp and it would slip away. Everything that he had taught himself was getting tested it seemed. It was getting more and more difficult to believe that the lost soul in his arms was once a terrorist, a mass murderer, a _manipulator_.

He didn't want to think anymore. He added pressure to the Joker's back which made him straddle and gain his balance quickly.

"I hate not knowing what to do," Batman said with a huff.

It was one of the most difficult things he could ever divulge to himself. He always had a second plan, a safety net that posed as even the tiniest hint of light in his world of darkness. This time there was none. There was no Plan B, there was no promising lead that would lead him to the desired result and that was because of the same message he had repeated to himself over and over. No matter how hard he tried to admit it, he had some grey qualities despite telling himself ritually that there were only two shades in life, black and white. He was never grey, a white dog with black spots, yes, but never grey because he couldn't and didn't allow himself to see his own faults, much less admit he had any.

This was especially different the quake. Att least then, he had connections. He remembered how especially trying it was to make amends with Jim.

"I hate not having any control," Bruce said darkly. His husky voice tickled the skin on Joker's ear, which made the gaunt clown step back and take a good look at the man he once hated with insatiable fervor. He gulped down the painful feeling in his neck.

"Awwwww, is there anything I can do to make it better? Wanna see a new trick I taught myself at my last stay? I need bed sheets and grape juice if you wanna take a peak…" Joker whined with childish glee. The Batman kept patting the grass colored hairs.

"Maybe later, I need to do some deep thinking," the cowled figure said lowly.

"Why?" The skinny clown piped up.

"It helps me reflect on things without affecting others," the Knight said deeply.

"…others that you love?" Joker added slowly.

"Basically," the Batman said. He still wasn't sure if he liked having his inner workings pulled out and revealed, much less hearing them echo outside his head. It was like being exposed.

The Joker bit his lower lip, nervous about asking what was pondering in his mind and whether or not Bats would open up more or turn a deaf ear.

"Well, have you thought about talking about what's troubling your little head instead of bottling those widdle feelings up? See, that's what I do. Rhino and Peanuts weren't just my muscle, they listened while I poured out my aching little heart without pussyfooting around with that Mr.J business. Of course, I did send them a little early to heaven's door before I got any feedback from them," Joker added, gesturing his anxiousness by biting his fingertips.

"Not really," the Dark Knight answered. "I find it a hassle to tell anyone about what's troubling me when I'm out there doing something every day."

"Well, some of us prefer to hear it, Batman," the white skinned man replied.

"You want to hear the big bad Batman talk about his feelings, Joker? That's a good one, that's like asking Trump to apologize." Batman said with a lightly strewn hint of sarcasm thrown in, sounding almost drunk out of his mind and not believing what had just come out of his mouth.

"No because he's a big bully with an ugly do whom I highly doubt wears tights at night, besides," Joker said sweetly. "I'd doubt he would make them look as cute as you do," the Prince chirped softly as he traced a white fingertip on the bottom of Batman's jaw line.

"They say there's no beauty without pain," Batman added quickly, trying to suppress the tingling sensations he still wasn't ready for. They tickled like light flames.

"Too true," Joker added softly, noting the tightening of the jaw of the taller more well built man. "Do you hurt every time Pengers pokes you with his big honker or when Harv gets bad tails?"

"Always," the other mad replied dryly. "I just don't notice it, any more."

The Dark Knight's eyes gazed upwards, facing away from the Joker who looked at him with almost God-like awe. His beloved detective had felt the searing scars of throbbing malaise but didn't want to tell anyone where the booboo was.

"Ooooooh," Joker said throatily. "Where does it hurt?"

"Everywhere."

What others called egomania, he called driven. What Dick called obsession, he called passion, a romanticized notion of what was seething underneath and at the expense of pushing his son away. He was called a perfectionist to the hundredth but he wasn't perfect. If that were the case why hadn't things gotten better? Is it because he knew he got himself into this endless cycle and ignored the bit parts that didn't coincide with his ideology? Was it because he hadn't worked hard enough, the patrol on the streets was getting routine and now that he thought of it. Was it both?

As the Dark Knight continued in his stupor, the Prince, stroked the shoulder blades of the Bat, too caught up in his own personal demons to say anything.

The silence of the cave was accompanied by the steady breaths of the two men who silently reflected on their newfound bond, which hit them both like an electrical surge that neither could leave easily. The shushed rhythm of their breathing was the only form of stability in the place. The only source of solace.

Off in the distance, the incessant whirring of the Bat computer continued. The machine had barely breathed life since the quake had shaken up its cables and circuits which resulted in low speed and disconnection. Now, however, it was as if the beast had awoken anew. The screen lights lit up almost immediately. Red green red green on the lower right. The keys lit up and belched a signal but to no notice. It wasn't until the screen had gone from a pitch black to a deep blue with a line in the middle that the Bat had shaken himself awake.

"Stay here," he said sternly, pushing the Joker aside. He sat down quickly, staring at the screen searching for any remote signs. Everything was looking in order but it still wasn't enough, the screen was still electric blue with the buzzing even louder than it was before. The Prince watched his Bat get to work.

He began whistling the theme to Monty Python.

Bruce put on a headset an immediately channeled the communications system, looking for anything that would lead to something more promising. He adjusted the volume, which was followed by the low sound of a scratchy background.

"B-Bruce?" A female voice sounded on the other line.

"I'm here, Oracle," Batman said sternly as he fiddled with the contrast but to little avail.

"Oh, my God, Bruce, are you okay?" Barbara said exasperatedly as she typed. She too was wearing a headset.

"A minor disconnection but nothing fatal, are you well?" Bruce said pragmatically. The old tone of authority still as strong as ever, the former female Bat counterpart thought to herself.

"Yes, fortunately. I told dad about the disconnection so he wouldn't go heads up again with you, like he did the last time." Barbara smiled as she sipped from a coffee mug decorated with the phrase World's Greatest Daughter, while curled up in an old GSU sweatshirt and in a ponytail.

"Have you found anything of significance?" Batman asked sternly, not letting the mutual exchange dampen his stone cold demeanor. "Any information on the escapees?"

Oracle tapped a few more keys before a page showing statistics pasted itself on her desktop.

"Not quite," she said mildly as she leaned in.

"What do you mean, 'not quite'?" Batman growled, "You either do or you don't," he barked overhead. The waves on the radio were jumping at the last part of the sentence.

"Well, put it like this, no one's seen any sign of either Scarecrow, Riddler or Hatter, much less you-know-who," Barbara said nonchalantly leaning back and wiping her glasses.

"I see," Batman said flatly, keeping his disappointment low key.

"You heard what happened, right?" Barbara said tiredly, wiping her forehead in a depressive manner. Bruce figured she must have been referring to the escape at Gotham Medical, judging by the stress she had with those last three words.

"I have."

The former Batgirl rested against her chair, looking sadly at the screen, fighting back tears. The seconds of silence alarmed the man who had groomed her.

"Barbara?" a low voice murmured as Bruce pressed a few more keys in successive fashion.

"This is madness, Bruce!" she sighed breathlessly. Her voice cracking with each syllable.

"Barbara," Bruce ordered. "You've been through worse than this, simmer down," the cowled figure ordered, and as he was doing so, Joker distracted himself with his previous investigation. The Plexiglas was only yards away. Hazy green eyes adjusted themselves in the darkness, wanting to quench his thirst and to peek at the toy Batsy had hidden from him.

"Oracle? Hello?!" Batman snarled.

"Ye-yes, I'm here," Barbara said assuredly. "Oh, God, I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me. I just –I-I-…"

"Don't think about it," Bruce shushed, his voice sounding more gentle and father-like than a demanding shout.

"Oh, it's easy for you to say! You weren't the one shot in the spine and pornographed against their will!" Barbara shouted as tears streamed down her white cheeks as she recalled that awful night. Naked and humiliated she remembers the cold touch of the Joker's hands running themselves over her in a perverse manner. In an out of consciousness she can see a white figure hovering over her. The sound of a shot as loud as thunder on glass rang clear as day, the smell of a smoking hot bullet still as fresh as the iron and steam of Gotham's subway system.

Bruce maintained composure. He didn't want to relive it. Not now. That was a different man, a broken, angry lonely individual with no remorse. It wasn't the same one a few feet away, the one who comforted him.

"I know I can't change what happened, Barbara but you can't let it run you forever," Bruce said gently. The redhead wiped her tear streamed face with her sleeve.

"Says the man who can't let go of his obsession," she snapped. Her sniveling still heard clearly across the line.

"Obviously we aren't getting anywhere with this, talk to me when you actually have something," Bruce ordered as he reached over the antennae of the headset but was stopped immediately by Barbara's protests.

"Sorry, I'm sorry…." Barbara interjected, shuddering as she placed her shaking palm over her sweat soaked forehead. Bruce barely made out a wispy, blurry image of the former Batgirl. He stood by, waiting for her to finally calm down, not wanting to walk on eggshells in her state at the moment. She keyed some information onto the keyboard, which opened up some files for her.

"There's no sign of any of the escapees, and apparently, neither Larson or Romero have spoken to the press."

Obviously.

Bruce heard more tapping through the scratchiness of the static.

"Any sign of Catwoman in the area?" Bruce tapped on the keyboard. Barbara coughed.

"Yes! My eyes and ears say that she was interested in one of the attorneys whom she spotted near the East Side area."

"East Side is home to the immigrant community so chances are it was Scarecrow's lawyer," Bruce added simply. Barbara shuffled the files to fetch anything that might trigger a peak of interest in Bruce without sounding like a broken record.

"Hmmmm, apparently, Two-Face was transferred to the Forrester Clinic late last Thursday," she said clearly.

"Any specific reason for that move?" Bruce pressed on, not quite easily digesting the new bit of news.

"According to the Arkham systems archives, he's been making some progress and his doctor convinced Jeremiah Arkham to transfer him to a clinic, saying that the atmosphere of the place was driving him over the brink. Who could blame him in a place like that? They say the hospital if a better place for him to adjust to society, slowly but they are not taking second chances," Barbara added, clasping her hands together.

As Bruce gathered the data, it still failed to generate anything he was looking for. Crane still hadn't made his move. It was if he was waiting for the right moment to strike, but the question begged when. He was not known to collaborate well with others. Still, there was a first time for everything.

"That will be all, Oracle. Batman out."

Far from his reach, Joker explored the dark corners of the Batcave, ignoring the vast collection of the Batman's assorted trophies, settling his eyes on the real prize.

As he inched closer, it became more and more evident that the glass container held something sacred to the Bat, judging by its dark hidden exterior. It looked like a mannequin or a dummy, for all Joker knew, it could have been a Jimmy Hoffa relic. The box tempted him like a hidden treasure. His face contorted into one of curiosity and mean frustration as to what was inside, and the lack of electricity didn't help at all. Like a mischievous child, Joker pressed his white head onto the glass looking for anything that might hint at the toy hidden from his grasp.

Whatever it was, it was red, with little boots on the floor. Joker couldn't make out yet if they were indigo or indeed green. This blasted darkness was getting in the way of his exploring.

Ghostly white palms laid themselves onto the glass, subconsciously pressing onto the glass to get a batter look at what was inside. Whatever it was, it tickled the back of his mind that he had seen it somewhere. That pesky itch just wouldn't go away. It was still pitch black and he still couldn't make out what was inside. He withdrew back and brushed away a jade curl that pushed itself onto the front of his forehead. His attention was immediately turned away to another exhibit which was about the same size and was closer to the light and without further ado, rose from kneeling and made his way towards the other glass box.

Curiouser and curiouser, he thought to himself.

His train of thought was trampled on when he felt a thick palm on the blade of his shoulder, shaking him out of his dreamlike state.

A tall shadowy figure greeted the jester who in turn yelped and gazed up at the taller, heavier man.

"Pleasdonthitme!" the clown squealed, biting his finger. A bead of sweat trickled down his chalk white forehead. His breathing pattern picked up speed slightly.

"Why would I want to do that?" the Dark figure muttered as he knelt down to help the harlequin off the cold floor. "Because I caught you snooping around?" The mysterious figure watched as the gaunt clown dusted himself off.

"Maybe," the harlequin piped up, still looking at the floor.

"If I wanted to do that I would have chained you, and I don't want to pander to that," the Dark Knight said simply.

"That's funny, I thought you did, look at your friends, specially the Amazon, don't tell me you don't like her without her yellow rope." Joker giggled. "And of course, don't forget my little contributions as well as with every one of those copycats at Arkham."

"None of that, Jack, and you know what I mean," Batman added dryly, tightly winding up loose wire he found in the monitor.

"Sorry," Joker said quickly, grinning nervously. "I just-"

"No, no, I'm the one who should do the honors," Batman butted in. "If anything I'm the one who needs to change my wardrobe."

Beautiful green eyes opened up at the confession.

"Figuratively," Batman said swiftly.

Misty green orbs went downward. "Oh."

"And for all that its worth, I think that it's time I make some changes, albeit painful ones."

Jack's face stretched into one of surprise and concern. Never had he thought that the Bat speak so casually about his weaknesses, much less change them. All the things that he had done, all those poison flowers, cyanide pies, all didn't do anything to make things come to this. He scratched the back of his head, feeling edgy about the new air that had seized them both.

"You were never one to share your shortcomings, Bats. I don't know whether to be flustered or flushed," the harlequin piped up, trying to come up with something that would cover up his anxiety.

"I've had a change of heart," the detective said simply. The prince rubbed the sides of his arms to keep himself warm. Both out of the coldness out of the cave and the unease in this new proposition the Batman was offering.

"May I ask what the cause was?" Joker said softly. His low tones hinted at a lusty demeanor. Not wanting to spoil the moment, the Dark Knight leaned in closer. The Prince did not stray from the larger body pressing in close to him.

"Advice from a friend," Bruce said quietly. Jack caught the insinuation of a human voice and proceeded to tilt in. Long digits traced the side of Bruce's mandibles.

"Which one? The big one or the little one?" Joker quipped softly, lips stretching into a suggestive smile.

"No, a different one," the pointy eared figure mumbled as he fondly recalled when Selina made a similar statement.

"And what did they say? Stop playing with him before you catch cooties?" Joker chuckled softly.

"Nothing to that extent, I'm sad to say," Batman replied. He looked down to see the jester smiling coyly up at him.

"Silly little Bat," Joker giggled as he brushed a bony hand across the cape on the Bat's shoulder.

"I'm rethinking about what you said about trust." The words struck the Joker out of his daze. "About what you said about 'opening up'", the Knight said.

"And?" the Prince chirped.

"I think that if we have to get past our personal demons and bury them, we have to peel away layers." The Joker's eyes gleamed at the promising words.

"When you say peel away, do you mean…." But the Prince couldn't find the exact words without testing the Bat's reactions, still hoping that the other man would finish his thought and sentence.

"It means having to open up a part of me that I've long buried and denied," the Bat said simply. The declaration sounded so simple, but the Joker still couldn't comprehend what the Bat had in mind. Even if it was a confession that he liked Miss Kitty since the third grade he would eat it up. The bottom line was that communicating with the Bat was something he had long starved for and would not let go of easily. It was a balance he did not want a soft breath to shift.

The Knight pushed the Joker way, using the free space to catch a quick breath before proceeding. He pulled out a small flashlight and adjusted its settings before lighting it.

A great flash zoomed out of the small lens which shone on the glass case Joker was investigating earlier only this time, and the contents were far more visible and colorful.

With childlike innocence, Joker studied the exhibit with awe and wonder. The first thing he noticed was how familiar the costume looked with all its vibrant coloring. The vest of red in which was embroidered a letter R on the chest. Old memories began to scratch in the back of his mind. They gripped him like a whirlpool, sending his trance of thought back into a time that brought back lightning speed memory of familiar smells and sights but was still not able to piece together. He noticed the lack of leggings on the attire which was complemented with a set of green under shorts and completed with matching pixie boots which stood neatly on the bottom.

The Prince's hooked nose pressed onto a glass, trying to suppress memories that brought back thoughts that pulled him back. They were uncomfortable, for some reason. The smells starting coming back, but he still couldn't put a name to what it was.

A rock from overhead chipped away from the rest of the stone wall and hit the hard surface of the computer before bouncing onto the floor. The sound was as loud as a thunderclap, like a hammer hitting onto an anvil…

_Like skull and bone against a crowbar _

Joker gasped and stepped back as if the exhibit was a poisonous scorpion. Thoughts began pouring back into his brain. They were cruel, cold, and most of all, perhaps the most excruciating part, was that it was him. He remembers the helpless body at his feet. The cries of the young lad begging and screaming to cease while he went on feeling only the exact pleasure that a dominatrix could ever ask for.

Joker's insides twisted and he pulled away from the spectacle.

"Oh, no," he groaned, pressing his fingers between his eyebrows.

"Jack," Batman muttered.

A cracking dryness invaded the Joker's throat. The last time he felt this way was when he 'worked' with Luthor to retrieve a rock, was it gypsum or watermelon tourmaline? Whatever the hell it was, the old guilt he had kept hidden was catching up. Looking back he didn't think it was real even then, but now it was very much so.

"Oh my. I-I don't know what to say," he moaned. Batman shushed him. Joker's eyes were threatening to water up but that was before he eyed the other glass container which was outlined with canary yellow go-go boots and cape. The shame bubbled up within him like a tar pit infected with polluted minerals. The belt and cape matched the boots. He hadn't seen that in a while, now that he thought of it, he hadn't seen her in a while.

Batman said Oracle, he ran a quick search in his mind. He remembered someone with red hair, female, around twentyish.

It suddenly dawned upon the Clown Prince who knelt forward, breathing heavily onto the glass which created a fog-like substance onto it.

"Oh, god…" he whimpered. He dragged down slowly from where he stood, leaning onto the glass before sitting sloppily sideways on his hips, wallowing in his past sins that not even laughing gas could get rid of. Shadows danced around him, taunting and tormenting him.

"Easy, easy," Batman warned. Joker muttered something. The Batman leaned in closer to get a better pitch.

"I'm sorry…I'm so sorry, Batman." Joker whispered in between breaths.

The Batman patted the back of the Clown Prince, trying to fight back the stinging sensation that plagued the corridors of his brain. He hugged the Joker tightly as both a sign to maintain composure and as a sign of reception. He knew it wouldn't bring Jason back or make Barbara walk again, but it was the only thing that was logical in times like this. He didn't feel like he was hugging a murderer in his arms, but it was the only source of comfort both of them needed.

Comfort and warmth, they were the only drugs they both needed to condense the hurt that had come back to haunt them.

_I just had to look at this and make some readjustments. It was such crap, I couldn't believe it. I hope I didn't turn away some readers the last time! _

_I know I couldn't hold a candle to DJ's The Game We Play, but I just had to spin my own version. PS, the good stuff starts happening next chapter! Stay tuned, kiddies! It's going to be good, I promise. Thank you for looking! _


	16. Face to Face: The Cat and the Clown

Author's note: Sorry for the wait. They needed me at Earth 27. As if those fools need me for finals! BAH! Thanks for reading and reviewing, everyone. It's the perfect catnip. It's better than sex. I also got a new job. I will begin work at the school library and will be doing so three times a week until the end of September. This shouldn't affect the story anyway. A word of caution my dears, thar be surprises ahead. If ye haven't the stomach for it, I suggess tha you don' bother, or I'll send the kracken after ye'! A big thank you to my friend, Isabel/Jokerlady, for all the laughs traded over our myspace messages. Love ya baby! This is probably my most difficult chapter to write. I hope I got it right. I just wasn't sure if I liked one version over the other before I finally settled down on this one. This is my longest chapter. I hope it was worth it. Lemme hear your views!

Era/Setting: Post Crisis 1985 with some sprinkles of OYL. Don't let continuity kill you. I don't own the characters and I don't pretend that I do. They belong to DC Comics/Warner Brothers. Bastards!

Pairing: Do ya really have to ask?

Synopsis: More revelations and surprises.

Beta: Phoenix Skyborne, queen of Robin slash!

Joker stared up at that hypnotic facade. Cold white eyes mirrored themselves into his green irises. A pang of guilt overcame in the deep pit of his throat. It wasn't because of the fact that he had a hand in past peccadilloes. He had gotten used to it long ago. It was the bridge, Joker gulped, at it was shaking. They had been coming closer, further than he would ever dream of. They were always at arms length and for the past few days and they had actually communicated and not with just stupid little words, but actual conversations. Joker shook at the possibility that this would retract those delicate steps of progress. He started up blankly at the Bat who returned the favor with a cold stare. Would he throw these precious past few days over this? Joker's breathing became steady, as if he was hanging in the balance. Fingernails dug themselves into the sleek rubber on Batman's shoulders.

The Dark Knight replayed the moments in his head. It was so long ago. They were part of the backbone of his personal war, and yet, they didn't feel as poignant as they once did. Time had not completely healed the wounds, but they still didn't deter him. He should have headed out after through Bane breaking his back, Ras' ideological megalomania, and Scarecrow toxin, and yet here he was. If anything all these occurrences made him stronger, more ardent, and more malleable. Did hardening any remnant of sentiment have anything to do with it? Bruce couldn't think of anything to bridge the silence, and it wasn't because he was upset beyond all depth. He was at a complete loss for words. It wasn't that he didn't want to say anything that would make him feel awkward, he couldn't find the right thing to say that would comfort them after what had just transpired.

Nothing could bring back Jason or fix Barbara's paralyzation.

"Why, Batman?" Joker hesitated before piping up softly.

The Dark Knight gazed down at the Prince, studying the glazing forehead of white which was starting to get beady with sweat.

"Why what, Joker?" The Knight huffed.

"Why did you do that? You could have saved yourself the trouble of reopening an old scar from your past," Joker said breathlessly.

"You were the one that was curious in the first place," Batman said simply. "I just wanted to make the workload easier for you."

"But you should have said something! The last thing I want to do is hurt you again." Joker's tone had risen to louder ones by now.

"You're right, I shouldn't have let you seen all this," the Batman said quietly, slowly sliding his hands down Joker's arms absentmindedly. "But the fact of the matter is, I've accepted my past, as should you."

"But I don't want to Batman, I want to move beyond that. I want to forget about mine because it's all so painful. These past few days, have been a true blessing for me. It's been like a christening, really." Joker said weakly, his bony fingers twitching nervously with each other.

"I feel like I've been born again since sharing these past few days with you," Joker whispered, the hotness of his breath tickling Batman out of his inner restlessness when he felt it brush on his chin.

"It's been something," the Batman growled lowly. A weak smile formed on the Prince's face at the acknowledgment. It was all the security Joker needed, but he couldn't help but wonder if the Bat could have been more wordy sometimes. "That doesn't mean ignoring the past. It gives it a spine, a purpose."

The hoarse voice made the jester tremble.

"But I don't want to go back there, Batman, please! I want to start anew!" Joker begged. The Batman however, still wasn't going to give up.

"Don't think I don't want to either, but that doesn't mean I'm going to let you off the hook just because you saw something that you didn't want to see." The Batman stated flatly.

"How do you mean? I was going to leave it alone if you had only told me so…" Joker protested. He shook in Batman's arms.

"How do I know that? How do I know you weren't going to push me around until I acquiesced to your wishes?" Batman reiterated back. The tone in his voice signified he wasn't going to let this go easily.

"I would have if you just told me." Joker added, sounding more desperate.

"It's too late for that, and there was some obvious significance to your history, judging by your reactions." The Dark Knight said staunchly.

"So this is you being detective on me?" Joker inquired, a thin brow raised obtrusively.

"Basically," was all the Batman said, moaning internally in frustration.

"Meaning that you won't stop until you everything and anything you want out of me, like larvae in a piece of carrion?" Joker said in a disgruntled and suspicious manner.

"We've been through this before, you made a promise back there, Joker."

Joker gritted his teeth at the words.

"Well you're wasting your time, because I have nothing to discuss. You'll get no word out of me, Batman, my confidentiality is just as precious to me as your secret identity!"

The taunting words were just barely hovering over the belt. He couldn't afford any more slip ups.

"No one said it was going to be an easy trip, Joker, remember your quid pro quo-"

"DON'T SAY THAT NAME AGAIN!!!" Joker screamed, causing him to push the Batman away. The pointed eared shadow glided back as the pale white clown moved back, covering his face on his hands.

White pupils tensed in frustration as Joker made a slippery escape from his grasp and went to a corner to vent.

The Prince's throat began to ache with a heavy weight ,and his eyes were threatening to water. They were almost see-through looking. Red lips parted to let out faint gasps. Labored breathing to a heavy toll on the Joker's frail body as he collapsed on the floor. The Knight rushed forward, creating a deep shadow over the Prince.

"Jo-Jack. Jack, listen to me!" Batman hotly protested. Joker paid him no mind. He writhed on the floor, lost in a sea of thoughts that attacked his body like hot spurs.

Hot like the bullet of a cold gun, thunder clapping in his ears. Hot like the unforgiving heat of a pop up toaster.

_It was a pop up toaster, wasn't it?_

_No, it was a radioactive microwave that would shoot puppies out!_

_Oh, will you shut it, you know what it is Jack. Tell him! Tell your beloved Bat all your troubles…maybe he'll bake you some Clown cookies. _

The Batman shook the harlequin's thin shoulder, begging for a response other than faint cries. Joker grabbed a piece of the Batman's cape. The Bat knelt down beside him, almost face to face. The proximity of their bodies calmed him somewhat, but he was still shaking. The Dark Knight then helped his guest to his feet, once again maintaining a solid hold onto him.

"Jack?" The Knight inquired. "Jack, answer me."

The Joker coughed softly. Hazy green eyes met Bruce's icy stare. If truth be told, he was standing on a balance beam. He was vigilant about the choosing of patterns in his next steps. Joker gulped at the prospect. That was the old Joker, he thought to himself, he wouldn't touch it with a ten foot pole of he could help it.

"Jack," Joker said softly. His voice was placid, it was if he had forgotten the tirade. His grayish eyes bloomed into ones in a dream like state. Jack. What an odd name. It was so funny and so different.

So human, basically.

It wasn't a colorful moniker that conveyed a long lost trance. It was basic, and simple. It lacked the intricacy and complexities of the Joker, Clown Prince. It was clear as day. Jack, a sweet angelic voice spoke. The Joker shifted. Where did that come from? Why is this so welcoming, and yet, no guns or cherry pies are involved? Why does this feel so familiar?

"Jack?" A dark husky voice broke the Joker out of his trance. The Prince turned back towards the Knight. He bit his lower lip.

"Batman," the Ace whispered gently. The murky visions in his head evaporated, subduing the Joker and shaking him back to the present.

The Dar Knight had only the slightest clue as to what was going on. Something obviously made the Joker uneasy and it certainly was because of what happened to Jason and Barbara. That was long ago. It was subtle but it was there. It had something to do before even those events occurred, something deep in his past. The Batman never gave it a second thought, but seeing the Joker wince at his own name was quite unsettling. Whatever it was, it had to do with Jack and not the Joker. It had to do before Joker.

The detective decided it was best to leave at that. The last thing he needed was an overemotional jester in the midst, when there was work to do.

The Joker rubbed the back of his neck, looking around absent absentmindedly.

"I'll have Alfred make you some green tea." The Batman replied dryly.

The Joker glanced up nervously at the Bat, looking like he had been caught red handed.

"What?" Joker responded. His mind snapped immediately back to the present.

"You need that rest I keep telling you that you need. The episode you just had was more than likely an effect of Scarecrow's toxin." A dark voice shushed. The Joker glared up at the Batman.

"Excuse me? What makes you think it was?" The prince inquired, sounding almost as if he was offended.

_That jackass couldn't get the formula right if it could save his life! _

"Because I don't even recall you ever looking so out of bounds," the Batman stated simply. "He's done his homework."

Oh hardy har har Joker thought.

"Yes, I'm sure it was," Joker sneered. The Batman caught the look. Why was he so caught up over an episode? He wasn't one to let his sentiments get the best of him, so it had to be implanted somehow, unless Joker really did feel something out of his own mind and it wasn't forced out. The idea had merit but it wasn't something Batman wouldn't consider investigating it further. He needed a distraction.

"You're awfully caught up on whatever triggered this," the Batman observed.

"Thank you for noticing, but it really is nothing." Joker shot back, crossing his thin arms like a disappointed parent.

"If you say so," the Batman stated.

"I'd rather not discuss things now, thank you!" The Joker glared back defiantly.

"Just making sure there's no stone unturned that I won't regret later," the detective said simply.

"Oh, you won't, I promise you that." Joker hissed.

The Batman groaned internally. This was getting them nowhere.

"Where not getting any where doing this, I'm going back to fixing the computer. If you need anything, don't hesitate."

That was the final straw for the both of them. The shadow turned back and headed back towards the giant monitor. He had succeeded in repairing a good portion of the damage. There was still the problem of working the lights and actually running the damn thing.

"Wait! Can I join you! I promise this time I will behave!" Joker begged. It was a painfully cute sight to say the least.

"How do I know you won't be bored and start snooping around again?" The Batman retorted.

"I can hold your flashlight for you! I don't want to be bored, Batman, please. It's the least you could do." Joker said pathetically. The flashlight was at a perfect angle but if kept the Joker from starting something again, it was certainly better than going in circles.

The surge of an electrical synapse was promising. The Batman connected two circuits and for once it was a success. Lying on his back, he played with the wires, hoping each time that it would be the last. It was pitch black down there, and the smell of burnt wire was strong. At least it kept him awake and busy.

"Move at an angle over here," the Batman ordered. The Joker was standing over him through a two by four opening. He did as asked and shed some light on a red and white circuit charge.

"Thanks," coughed the Dark Knight after a small cloud of dust overcame him after his elbow hit the side.

"Oh, no worries! This is so exciting! Me, helping the Batman while he tends to technical troubles."

"This is how I punish Robin." The Batman shot back.

"Oh, but at least he's welcome down here, at least considering the fact that you don't have a lot in your inner circle, I mean, not counting Superham at least." Joker replied smiling.

"There is a difference between friends, allies, and family, of that's what you mean. The only ones allowed down here are family and people I trust. I don't trust the JLA, but we hold mutual respect for each other."

Joker's eyes gleamed, wondering at the prospect in thinking which group he belonged in. It was closer than Diaper Boy that was for sure.

"And people who have been bludgeoned to a pulp, be me or otherwise," Batman corrected himself quickly.

Joker's puppy dog eyes widened.

"Oh, but you haven't hurt anyone, have you Bats?" The Batman grabbed a screwdriver to his side.

"More than you think," Batman said swiftly. Joker scoffed.

"I'm not talking about the times you have nearly broken all of my bones, or Harv's or Eddie's or Pengers'. You just don't seem like the type that would do so intentionally."

"There's self defense and then there isn't. I've done what I've done. My penance is heavy." The Batman said firmly.

"But that wasn't you, it was me. I did it because I was the one being living in my own folly. I only wanted to see you trip on your cape, if there's anyone paying for that it's certainly me."

The Batman said nothing. He only gave the Joker a quick glance before resuming wiping the steel door. Joker blinked.

"Ahem, and just so you know, I'm completely repentant on everything and anything that I've caused." Joker sighed. The Batman ceased his administrations, trying to make sense of what he had just witnessed.

"I know it won't wash away my tabula clean, but I just wanted you to know that I am very sorry for the boy and the girl."

The words rang like thunder. A confession out of the Joker was like something out of Fantasyland, and here he was, broken and penitent. Joker's kissed the face of mortality before, spat back in its face and kicked it in the nether regions. It was very different this time. It was eerie.

"At least one of us is being honest," Batman responded brusquely.

Joker smiled weakly.

"What changed?" The Batman inquired.

"Us," Joker said simply, adjusting the position of the light while Batsy reached for something to his left. "Your vow to uphold your personal sacred truth was something that drove me bananas before but now since my very being is on the...line. I'm flattered."

Batman pushed himself out from underneath the table, wiping the wrench with a dirty cloth.

"I just think that after all I've done to you that you would have a devil may care approach to my impending end."

The confession pinched a nerve inside. No matter how many times Joker alluded to it, he couldn't get used to it. He wasn't going to and he would see to it that those responsible would get justice.

"Nothing is sacred," the Dark Knight said abruptly. "I mean my word and no one gets left out. Not even you."

"Are you saying that because you lost it yesterday? Are you trying to sugarcoat things. You're starting to sound like that boy-scout." Joker chuckled.

"Is there anything illogical to want to save lives? Yes, it is a fool's errand, but it's mine to uphold and keep."

Joker stood aback at the confession. His philosophy sounded so simple, no contradictions, no challenge, it just was.

"So now that you're a self admitted crazy, I guess it's safe to assume that you're not accountable for your actions," Joker smiled softly.

"I wouldn't say that. These past two days have been rather enlightening." Batman confessed. It was true. The last few days have brought him out of shell. His absolute mindset tickled and challenged but never to this extent. For years, he had been stagnant, rationalizing every single micro inequity to the tenth power so that it conformed and justified as he saw fit. While it reaped many positives, he lost a lot in the process. No explanations would ever be enough to substantiate for what he had sacrificed in the meantime.

Joker's pleading eyes begged Batman not to stop.

"Really?"

Batman set aside the utensil.

"I'm not one to pamper people I have just beaten up, especially anyone of your caliber. That's Alfred's job."

Joker's childlike curiosity glimmered on his face.

"I've never openly communicated with someone as I've done lately, especially like this."

He was of course referring to his persona.

"In other words, you haven't cared for someone as you have now?" Joker added, praying that it was the direction the Batman wanted to go to.

"To an extent, but that's the idea." Batman said simply, obviously ashamed to admit that he actually cared for the Joker, but after feeding, talking, and even sleeping together, to think otherwise would be in complete denial. But that's all that there was to it.

Brilliant emerald eyes shined at the confession. He swallowed, analyzed from every angle, and repeated them to himself.

"Not to nitpick, but what do you mean by to an extent?" Joker mewed, biting his fingernail.

"I don't want to leave room for misconception." The Dark Knight huffed.

The Joker sighed. It was a blow but the words it created were more than enough to make him forget quickly.

"You're a stubborn ass, did you know that?" Joker reiterated.

"I've been told that and worst." Batman added. The Joker giggled.

"Like what?" Joker gleamed, sitting himself up on the processor and putting his palms together, as of he was waiting for a good story to commence.

"If I told you, then I would have to take you upstairs again to wash your ears," Bruce answered. He applied some more grease to the iron tools.

"Let me get that for you. If I want to prove myself useful to you, I might as well start somewhere," Joker smiled demurely as he plied away the tool from the Dark Knight's grasp. The latter didn't seem to mind at the gesture.

"You don't have to do anything, you're in a very delicate state." Batman said warningly but with a concerned tone in his voice.

"Funny, I don't feel weak," Joker protested.

Batman rolled his eyes. It was no use and decided it was best that Joker did what he wanted, as long as he was quiet about it, which was less than likely, but at least not in harm's way.

"If you insist," Batman responded. "Just stay away from the left hand side. There's a good chance oil spilled out."

"Let me just go wash this for you then," the Joker added finally. He took the screwdriver and headed towards a pipe off a corner where Batman had washed his face. The Knight turned back at the computer, playing with the keys and adjusting volume and contrast.

The Prince was humming while he tended to the tool. When he finished, he met the Batman at one end of the apparatus.

"I'm going to do a few things over here, you're more than welcome to watch."

"Okay," Joker replied. He watched as the Bat once again laid himself on his back and pushed himself underneath the workstation.

"How often do you do this?" Joker queried as he looked at his Bat through a small window.

"As often as a quake hits," Batman said simply. "I made satellite caves before the quake."

"Smart bat," Joker said engagingly.

"This was right before-"

"Hold that thought," Joker said firmly as he turned back to the corner where he was only moments earlier. The silence implied as acceptance let the Joker investigate the source of the disturbance.

He inched closer and closer until he felt he was at a distance to get a good eye. He stared into the pitch black nothingness, finding nothing except two gleaming sparks in the deep recesses. He dismissed it was droplets of water.

That was until he heard a low growl from behind his back. He grabbed a screwdriver from the floor that had somehow rolled over from where the Batman was stationed. He arched himself, ready for combat.

"You," the figure growled.

"Joker?" Batman asked huskily.

But before the Joker could even give a response, a dark shadow leapt from the mouth and pinned him down mercilessly on his back. Swatting violently, the Joker snarled at the figure pinning him down like a rabid wildcat. Claws attached to feminine hands and leather gripped his skinny throat.

"YOU!" The creature roared at him.

"I heard you before, pussy! So nice to see you, we were just talking about you!" Joker taunted, maliciousness evident in his eyes.

"SHUT UP!" Catwoman snarled. She reached back for her bull whip while keeping a tight grip on the Joker's neck.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE!?" Selina hissed at the shaking Joker.

"SELINA!" Batman bellowed.

"Not now, handsome! I'm acting as pest control for the moment." Selina purred before returning a burning glare at the Joker.

"You really need lessons in class my dear, did you not notice the do not dis-(COUGH)-disturb si-i-gnnnn?" Joker said laboriously.

"Why you sneaky son of a-" Selina retracted her claws, aiming them at a vulnerable part on the Joker's body, but before she could complete the deed, she was blindsided when the Clown Prince kneed her on the stomach, sending her crashing against a wall and hitting the floor. She immediately stood up again, only to be greeted by a charging Joker who jumped at her with a screwdriver at hand. Selina uppercut the Prince's jaw, making him lose balance. This obviously failed because as soon as the Joker saw her aiming towards him, he propped himself on his hands, kicking her in mid air, sending her overhead and crashing on the floor. With cat-like reflexes, Joker jumped at the Catwoman, both locked in a wrestling match, each trying to pin the other to the floor.

"You bitch! Don't you know that your boyfriend hates uninvited guests?" Joker teased, a toothy grin giving him the flair of a predator, which he was.

"Funny, the only person that applies to in this room is you!" The Catwoman shot back.

Joker pulled at her hair while Catwoman aimed for his neck. Using the minor distraction, Joker landed a slap across Selina Kyle's face, sending her crashing down. She let out a low growl before her next move. She wiped a stream of blood from her nose before she pulled out her whip, which snapped at various places around the Joker and creating loud cracking noises.

Selina Kyle studied the Joker's choreography. He was the star in this freak circus. His movement was sporadic, confusing her. Finally, free from all patience, she aimed the whip. It barely missed the Joker by a hair, but it was close enough for him to snatch a length of the flog, pulling Selina out of balance.

"What's wrong kitty cat? Clown got your tongue? How many lives do you have left, because I won't hesitate to speed up the process again, and again and again!" Joker grinned maliciously.

"BASTARD!" Selina roared. She let go of the whip, a lost cause. He managed to get a few well aimed cracks but they weren't fast enough for her. Joker let out a frustrated growl after he lost sight of the Cat momentarily. The moment of surprise came when she landed from overhead, landing on top of him. She straddled him to keep him in place and a swift swipe caught the whip. Weakened and exhausted, Joker breathed deeply. His lip burst and an eye threatening to close, he stared up at the Catwoman overhead who was leaning in close.

"Tell me something, Joker, do you bleed?" Selina asked. Long angular claws danced on top of a sensitive area of Joker's neck. Joker gritted and sucked in air through his teeth.

"What's that, I didn't catch it?" Selina taunted, smiling deliciously as she had the upper hand. The nail on her index finger traced itself on top of Joker's jugular.

"You know what, precious, that suit doesn't go well with you, particularly the color. I would suggest a little something that doesn't highlight your thighs!" Joker grinned.

With that Selina leaned forward, attempting to crush the neck of that skinny bastard but lost. A blow to her head sent her back, leaving the Joker enough time to get up again.

"Now, where were we, saddlebags?" Joker smiled dangerously. The two circled each other like lions. The Catwoman made no hesitations before striking again and this time, she would not miss.

"ENOUGH!" A thunderous voice sounded off, grabbing her by the nip of the neck. The same treatment was given to the Joker. The Batman finally stepped in. Both Cat and Clown looked like rag dolls in the Batman's grasp.

"What the hell?! B-Batman!" Selina yelled, demanding an explanation.

"Selina! We've been through this before." Bruce said sternly when he faced the Feline Fatale.

"I don't recall letting Clown boy over for a sleep over." Selina charged.

"That is not of importance at the moment. Please put your weapon down." Bruce demanded.

Selina couldn't register what she had just heard. Was he in cahoots with that Clown?

"Br-BATMAN! He killed people, that's against your first commandment!" Selina yelled, emotions in overload.

"I'm aware of the Selina, but I'm only asking you this once, lower your whip!" Bruce hollered.

"Better do as he says, kitty cat, before I turn you into a pair of fluffy new slippers for Batsy's friends at the Ritz!" Joker jeered.

"Joker, be quiet." Batman growled.

Joker whimpered in Batman's hold. The Catwoman, with great hesitation tossed her utilities on the floor by Batman's feet. He proceeded to wrap up her whip in a neat circle.

"Why are you here, Selina?" Bruce murmured. Joker smiled devilishly at his side.

"Because I would imagine that your butler is sleeping at this time, so I came in through the other exit." Selina Kyle responded.

"Selina," Bruce pushed.

"I was making some rounds. I thought you were dead and I wanted to make sure I was wrong, so I came here." Selina huffed, azure eyes gleaming with rage.

"Please sit down," Bruce offered, walking with her to his chair. Joker following in hot pursuit.

"Thanks," Selina purred.

She cleaned herself with the wipes Bruce had in hand. She removed the pack she was wearing.

"I assumed you were working on the Crane case. My instincts were right about his lawyer."

"How do you know this?" Bruce pondered, offering her a glass of water he had originally save for himself.

"I paid her a visit. Well, it was unplanned. I was keeping patrol of the East side when I noticed a strange car. Not something you would see in the area and lo and behold I'm glad I followed."

She began to rummage through her bag.

"Here's some evidence. Don't judge a book by its cover."

She tossed him some VHS tapes.

"What are they?"

"Prehistoric technology. Those tapes have convos and all the goodies you can use on Crane and his witch." Selina added absent casually.

"So you're certain this is concrete proof?" Bruce pushed on, holding up a tape in one hand.

"Don't ask, don't tell, handsome," Selina smiled after a long sip of the glass. Batman set down the evidence, focusing on Selina. Joker sat behind him, looking annoyed and making faces. Selina sneered.

"Um, could you tell Clown boy back there to turn around," Selina sneered.

"Don't mind me, fattie. I'm just enjoying the view!" Joker jeered.

"I should go now." She rose, "I told Holly I'd show up early so that we could catch a night on the town."

"Selina, I…"

"Don't mention it," she finished. With that she leaned in for a quick kiss. Bruce readily accepted and pulled her close. She smelled good, like roses in an exotic garden. Low purrs reverberated from her throat.

Joker leaned back, looking annoyed.

When they parted, Selina caressed the side of Bruce's face.

"You're such a tease, it's maddening. How do you expect anyone to trust you when you can't even do it yourself?" She smiled.

With that she landed a quick slap across Bruce's cheek. The pain quickly subsided.

"Later handsome," she said silkily. "I'm taking one of your toys."

"The new cycle is over there." Bruce added.

"I didn't ask," she turned back, tauntingly.

She passed the Joker, giving him a dirty look. The Joker responded with a conceited dismissal.

She boarded the new model in Batman's collection. The symbols were subtle which were perfect for her. She started the engine and sped out of sight, the revving echoing in the distance.

"So you know each other outside of the masks?" A falsetto broke out.

"Selina and I have a history together," Bruce said quietly. The words piqued the Joker's curiosity.

"Oh, so what happened?" He sat down on top of the processor watching the Bat pace before him.

"Different lifestyle choices," Bruce said finally. "She and I just don't see eye to eye on a lot of things."

"But you didn't exactly resist her right now," Joker added, pressing in for something he could use against.

"Like I said, Joker, history," the Batman said bluntly, "A deep one."

Joker eyed the Batman in an incredulous way.

"She won't win my vote for best looking hair, but she is right you know," Joker added. The Dark Knight turned towards the Prince. What did that mean?

"I mean, she does have a point, you squeeze things out of people like a pesky pimple and you keep that Master of the Shadows look." Joker said sheepishly.

"I do it because it's my job." The Batman replied sternly.

"Wrong, people hate their jobs. It's obviously something you have a passion for, otherwise you would have given that old gag up long ago!"

"I keep things hidden because there a certain benefits to having a secret identity."

Joker stood up and faced the Batman, inches separating their noses.

"Such as…? If anyone should hide his face it's Robin Hood." He retorted gently.

"My protection," the Batman answered.

"Oh," the jester huffed. "Well that makes sense then." He sounded almost disappointed at the revelation.

"You don't sound convinced," the Dark Knight responded.

"Not entirely, I was hoping for something a little bit juicier," Joker sighed. He felt cheated. He knew there was something more. "But truth be told, I've gotten used to your mysterious ways. It heightens the excitement factor for me." Joker confessed, his dulcet tones as calm as the wind on the beaches. Batman did not exactly resist, as he leaned in closer to the shaking Joker.

"Lots of people have gotten away with minimal effect." Batman shuddered.

The large shadowy outline towered over the emaciated one.

"True, but even if you didn't want to unmask, I wish you could show me that you trust me somehow." Joker sighed as his hot breath evaporating in the cold atmosphere of the cave.

"I already showed you that I did, by bringing you in here." Bruce reiterated. The tone in his voice carried on a more human touch, rather than animal.

"Wrong again, if you really did trust me you would do so than just by telling me things I want to hear." Joker corrected him. He brushed a long finger alongside Bruce's jawline. He shuddered at the touch.

"I want something more than just that," Joker spoke tenderly. A small sensual smile formed across his lips.

"Like what? An Italian dinner and wine?" Bruce suggested.

Joker's eyes gleamed at the proposals.

"Well that is nice, but I was thinking something a little different." Joker gave him a suggestive look. A knot in Batman's stomach raised a sign in his brain. This was unfamiliar territory. Rather, it was familiar territory with a very unfamiliar host. The knot tightened.

"I'm not sure what is you're exactly looking for, Joker," Batman stated, almost pleadingly.

"Oh don't give me that modest Bat guano, Bats. You think I'm so insane that I can't read the signs?" Joker eyed him suggestively.

The man standing opposite him failed to catch the long white hands creeping up his torso.

"I'm not sure what you mean," the Dark Knight admitted. He had an idea but he didn't let the idea fully take execution.

"Of course you don't, you still make out with ex girlfriends, buy me dinner, and still keep us at a distance. Well, I'm here to show you." The harlequin spoke. His head turned at an angle in an evocative manner.

"I'm not sure if I like this," the Batman countered. Joker ignored the words because he hadn't pushed him back. He didn't exactly welcome him either, but either way, he wasn't rejected.

"Then let me show you, because how will you know if you really want this or not, because I know I do." Joker said breathlessly into the Batman's ear. Even with the Kevlar covering it, he still felt the heat on that delicate part of skin that sent chills down his spine. Normally, he got that response from women. Coming from the Joker, the sensations were just the same.

"What is it?" The Knight asked, almost begging. The words were bait to the Clown Prince. It would be insane to turn it down. The Bat was curious and the Joker would certainly extinguish it.

"Let me show you, since you have no clue what I'm TALKING about, you silly boy." Joker sighed into the Batman's mouth. By this time, the Joker had wrapped his arms around the Bat's neck. The Bat kept his hands on the Joker's hips. The look in the Joker's eyes was a familiar one, albeit a little different. He knew the steps but was hesitant to make the next move.

He didn't have to.

Joker closed his eyes and leaned in, pressing his face against the Batman's, claiming his lips with his own. The mix of peach and cherry red skin was soft at first only to dissolve into one of deeper passion in a few seconds. The Batman closed his eyes and snaked his arms around Joker's hips and across his back. The Joker lowered his arms and laid them on top of Batman's toned ones. The Prince let out a small moan in response to the touch. It sounded much like a cat. The Batman cut off any remnant of insecurity and pressed in deeper into the kiss. His concentration fully invested into the trade, particularly to those lips which were ruby red. They reminded him of lipstick. Soon, Joker moaned again, this time, Batman responded with a low growl. Immediately, the Clown Prince pulled back, breathless. The Batman held him back.

"I'm sorry, I-"

"Why?" The Batman beseeches him.

"I'm-"

"Don't," the detective responded.

With that, he pulled the Joker back in, studying the immense beauty of those emerald colored eyes before going in and planting another one on Joker's lips. The response immediately yielded results as Joker moved a hand and placed it on the side of Batman's chin, purring deeply during the exchange. Thoughts raced inside Bruce's head, chalking up old memories, many no longer had merit and were quickly ignored. This was new ground and although the little boy inside him cried, he was also crying tears of joy because he was loved. He wanted that warmth and acceptance, and the Joker provided.

He needed that warmth, the gratification, the light.

_Finally, huh?_


	17. Unmasked

Author's note: I bought Contagion this week and I noticed that the Batcave treasures are kept in glass safes. Let's just pretend that Bats was remodeling and the tremor hit in the middle of redecoration, hmmmm?

Thank you all for the watches and reviews. Work is tough but that doesn't mean I have to punish you. If you have any questions, feel free to ask. Oh, and one more thing, not all rock bands can pull of a decent Unplugged version of their songs and Led Zeppelin is anything but metal.

Era/setting: Post crisis 1985

Pairing: Batman x Joker

Synopsis: _You were distant, now you're nearer, I can feel your face inside the mirror..._

Feedback: Sure!

Thoughts raced in the back of the Batman's mind as he let himself get deeper into the exchange. Soft tender lips touched his own, calming his ever stressed mind which bent under the weight of his perfectionist stride. This wasn't part of the plan, there wasn't supposed to be any of this, no distractions, no delays because the wasted time in getting close to the desired goal: but this felt so comforting. Large, manly hands pressed themselves onto the Joker's back, touching silky fabric which laid atop a delicate figure of the jester. Soft, inviting moans only tempted the Bat even more as he pressed in deeper. The yellow symbol laid atop the lean muscles and white skin of the Joker, whose breathing and passion in the kiss quickened, begging for more involvement.

The two psyches fought for dominance inside the Bat. Bruce Wayne's instincts began to take the reins more while the Dark Knight slipped in his grip. The touch was all too tempting to resist. The supple red lips were more nourishing than mother's milk. The iron jaw tried hard to pull back, but found it next to impossible to turn away from the Joker's forgiving and merciful trade. Low growls greeted the Joker's slightly open mouth, which welcomed them generously. The Prince returned the favor with softer versions.

Lightning-white hands reached up and graced themselves on the sides of Batman's face, and were cradling the Dark Knight who was falling apart on the inside. His entire being felt wobbly, and he held onto the Clown Prince more tightly. He held on for dear life to the Joker, who acted as some sort of life raft.

It wasn't until his mouth was invaded by the Joker's tongue that he awoke from the midst of this sensitive state. Its mischievous nature reawoke old thinking patterns and snapped the Batman's mind back into the present. It wasn't until he caught sight of the devilish grin on the Joker's face that he recalled. Suddenly, everything felt so defaced and violated. This wasn't who he was. Kissing the Joker was something that would never cross his mind in a thousand lifetimes, and here he was indulging in the sin. True, he found himself growing more concerned for him, but that was out of humanitarian aid and not for personal convictions. He only cared for the Joker out of health. Emotions were out of the question because the Batman is absent of any remnant. The word was alien to Him. Feeling died when he was ten because the only people he ever loved were snatched by that superstitious cowardly lot. They were vultures, cruelly taking spoils that didn't belong to them.

Cowards.

They deserved no empathy.

Saving the Joker was one thing, to be intimately connecting with him in this manner was a different matter. The idea of kissing a madman was a thought he didn't want to fully process because it contradicted every living fiber of his being. Kissing someone was because you did it out of love, but even love had played cruel jokes on him in the past. The pace was familiar, Batman reassured himself, and perhaps that was why he gave into the little slip-up. Yes, that's what it was. It didn't count because he was thinking of her and Joker just had to step on that line. He was ashamed, partially because he had let himself get this far, and because he enjoyed it. He enjoyed it for the sensations. To actually feel something for the Joker as deep as this was something that didn't cross his mind. Maybe he didn't want it too. Everyone he love was hurt and he didn't want to go through those motions again, so he kept them at a distance. Here he was doing it again.

Joker was reeling at the moments of thunderous response on Batman's part to his move. He savored the hot kisses and melted into them, studying each and every detail as if the very core of his existence depended on it.

The soothing touches wouldn't last long and soon he felt the Bat push him back, the two former arch-enemies trading glances. The Joker stared up in awe at the other man, wondering and anticipating what would happen next. He was standing at a fine line. Both men were. They were suspended in the reality that they had self-imposed on them. Time was frozen as new territory offered solace and an uncertainty. Joker wanted to explore it further. For years, they were at a distance, only to have that gap shortened moments earlier. Instead, what he got was a minor brush off as the Dark Knight pushed him aside, seemingly as if he had gotten out of a trance and rejoined the real world while he returned to his prior administrations by working on the computer and terminals.

The Joker wiped away a green curl from his brow, growling softly at the act, feeling worse than a used tissue: Ignored, discarded.

The Batman was thinking about toying with a few buttons, testing their productivity, which came with some major progress right before his train of thought was quickly broken by a screech.

"What?"

The Dark Knight stared blankly as the Prince, whose desperate, pleasing eyes begged for an answer.

"What was that for?" Joker queried, looking incredulous.

"It's getting late," the Batman said simply, hoping that that would be the end of it and that Joker would get it. But that was a Fool's Errand.

"Wrong answer, Batman," the Joker said lowly, crossing his arms. The Batman laid his hands flat on the desktop, deep in thought about his next answer. Only moments earlier he was relishing the moment and now, he was thinking ten steps ahead. "What was that all about?" the Prince urged further.

"Nothing," the Batman said simply. "I just...wasn't thinking." The truth had never felt so venomous. His throat felt dry, confessing his sins. He was always calculating and rational. This wasn't part of the plan, but it didn't feel like a setback either, but it didn't feel right. Everything was so fluid and unsteady.

He had lost precious timing to save a life, and he was getting by with the glitches in the monitor. Was all this over-thinking necessary? It was a simple gesture of kindness. One that took a few minutes too long.

Was kissing the Joker the only logical move he had made all night? It was the only promising lead of change. Everything else was stagnant and unresponsive. Even Selina showed no signs of turning over, so it couldn't have been her.

This was even more trying than one of the Riddler's puzzles or Ras al Ghul's plans.

Everything was so gray. Everything he had taught himself, restraint and discipline, all thrown out the window for a moment of bliss. He wasn't electrocuted and it was the first taste of true happiness he had felt in a long time. Was he punishing himself for feeling happy for two minutes?

"Not thinking?! Am I to believe that you're denying the reality of the situation? That it was a desperate act out of your overworked self?! Don't give me that sugar coated hokey, Batman! I may have a higher body count than the rest of that pathetic lot at Arkham or Blackgate but that doesn't mean I didn't feel this!!"

Joker's faces contorted in anger, completely unaware as to what was going on on the other side of the Bat's facade, hidden in the shadows.

"I know you felt it, Joker, I could feel you shaking. I just don't think that I could accept how I felt it," the Batman said morosely.

"That's exactly the problem, isn't it," the snide clown retorted, looking offended. "You just can't let yourself go. You just can't let yourself feel." Joker shot back, feeling cheated and abused.

The Prince's softer tones in the last bit still hadn't shaken the Knight out of his dark demeanor. They chained him because they were true.

"Batman does not feel," he said grimly, gloved hands pressing firmly onto the top.

"Maybe not Batman, but whoever it is under the cowl did," the harlequin said darkly.

The shadow swished from one side and faced the Joker, who stared defiantly at the taller figure, not letting three times as much muscle and gristle intimidate him.

"Only Batman exists," the Dark Knight said in that all too familiar dark voice. It brought out old feelings within the two of them. "Only the Batman."

"You keep telling yourself that, sweetheart, but I know that after you broke my bones for the seven hundred and eighty-fifth time, you come home and take off the suit and get into your Bat pajamas and maybe use your Bat potty beforehand."

"What makes you think that I'm not like this all time, like you and your acid scarred skin?" the Batman growled.

"Oh, tut tut, I already saw you washing your face, and don't worry your little head about your secret identity, just don't think I'm stupid and keep feeding me this guano."

Bruce felt a pinch in his gut. He saw him, but not really. Great. Another dead end. No definite answers and he hated that.

"If you saw that, then why didn't you spoil it? You've coveted that prize for a long time but now you step back. Why, Joker?"

Joker's lips stretched, scowling lowly because the situation wasn't in his hands any longer.

"Because I respect you for that. If I took a peak it would be anticlimactic, now wouldn't it? I only wanted to find out your true self because I was obsessed and angry. I wanted to peel away all those layers and find the true ugliness, but now that I've been afflicted, well, death kind of rearranges those priorities."

Batman wished he would stop saying that.

"It's like taking a full peek at a Christmas present. You want to look but you don't want too. A looksie is far more exciting than an eyeful sometimes. Why do you think peep shows have been so successful?"

Batman gulped at the words.

"I only wanted to bring you down to your knees because I wanted to expose your weakness. I wanted to know what would make you tick. Now, I know. I feel like I've been wasting my time not doing it sooner," the Prince said softly. "If you saw me sneaking a peak, I thought you'd be mad, so I didn't do it," the harlequin said shyly, eying the Batman only inches away from him. "It was the only way I wanted to show you that you could trust me," Joker shushed.

The Batman stood aback. He couldn't completely register the words in his mind because they made too much sense and yet, they didn't match up. The same man who wanted to bring him down on his knees was expressing some concern and compassion, the idea was ludicrous and here it was happening! The Joker's mood swings didn't hide an obvious change. Ever since he had been in the cave he had been nothing but compliant. Was this all he needed to keep him from giving into his murderous impulses? The attentiveness and care he had been providing aligned eerily with the metamorphoses and he wanted to keep it that way. The question was whether or not he was willing to keep up with further adjustments to make progress.

"I just want you to stop lying to me and especially yourself."

"My identity is just as sacred as your past," the Batman said quickly. "This is all me. This is all who you are going to see."

Joker bit his finger.

"Oh, I know what happened to me, darling, I'm not denying that. If time permits I might share it with you, but for now, you're the one in the hot seat."

"My secret is precious, I already told you about the duck I shot, and if it makes you feel better, it still gives me nightmares."

"For some reason, I am not buying the memory of a dead animal as your core reason as to why you put on the mask. It's deeper, I know it," Joker leered.

"Animal or not, it's something I do not take lightly," Batman shot back.

Joker felt a slight twinge in his stomach. Must be all the bird talk.

"Why have I got reason to tell? I'm dying anyway, so you might as well tell me the truth and stop-"

"Stop. Saying. That." The hoarse voice replied.

The chalk-white face looked bemused. Startled at the sudden expulsion.

"Stop."

The Prince rubbed the sides of his arms, keeping himself from freezing.

"I told you, already, you need to stop saying that. You just had a moment of weakness you shared with me and now you're ashamed of it."

The cowled facade closed his eyes.

"True, the big bad Bat doesn't have feelings. He doesn't cry, he doesn't have weak sentiments, but he has passion, I know. You do it every night and I just felt it right now."

The Batman felt his gut tighten. It was all in front of him and he failed to see it. He came up with several excuses to mask anything that contradicted any of his principles. It was all a self-imposed chain. A brutal punishing existence that he had placed upon himself since he was six. Once lifted, he held onto it fervently and yet, did that bring them back?

Was he ever happy? He never let himself be, but the moment the chance appeared he pushed it away. That wasn't normal. Oh God.

It hurt to breath, everything was so sticky. It was hard to think. His thought processes limited. Everything black. All alternatives gone. There was no grease in the wheel out of this one. Why couldn't he think? God, it was too hot. It couldn't have...could it? Was it the mask? Did the mask make it hard to suck in some air? His heart raced, everything felt so claustrophobic.

The Bat doesn't feel.

He was cornered. Everything was so airtight. He couldn't think. It had to be the mask. He had to stay in character, but the lines were all said and done. There was nothing else to say. Nothing else that would remedy the circumstances.

Unless...

No, that was a crazy idea.

_What is crazy? You put on the suit, who calls that normal? You just kissed like there was no tomorrow, that's another point!_

I have a clear unselfish purpose for this.

_BULL! You know it! You wanna compensate for what you lost! It feels good, doesn't it Bruce?_

Shut up. Shut up.

_Typical. _

That was crazy, but it felt so normal. A kiss was a normal reflex at warmth and generosity. Love.

It was a damned if you do, damned if you don't moment. Joker was knocking death's door, he couldn't lie to himself about that. He was substituting perceived progress in place of his own desires. It was a selfish thing onto itself anyway, because he only pushed the people he cared about away. Wayne funds will never buy those losses back. Joker was here, offering that lost odd.

That one more chance.

The Batman couldn't answer that question.

But he could.

"What are you doing?" the Joker asked, gripping the silk by his neck.

"Something I should have done along time ago," the Knight said grimly. "Remember what you said about secrets, they can either liberate or eat you alive."

Joker blinked and nodded at the question. "And?"

"I've decided to listen, for once. These past few days have been a real challenge, and there's no use for the same old routine," the Bat said darkly.

"Why the sudden change of heart?" the Joker inquired.

"That's not something I can answer," the Batman replied shortly.

"Why? Don't you have to flap your mouth if you want me to hear it?"

"You won't need to. This is something I have to show you."

With that, the large figure stood back into the shadows, gliding into a spot hidden from any artificial light. The only thing visible were the white slits, looking demonically outward. The Batman took deep steady breaths before finally making his move. Slowly, he peeled back the Kevlar, which stuck stubbornly onto his clean-shaven face. As soon as the snout moved backwards, he breathed in the air. It smelled like freedom. The Joker had no idea what was going on. He didn't know whether to appreciate or turn back. Once the cowl got past the eyes, Bruce blinked, adjusting his vision in the darkness. It was labored at first, but he quickly adapted to the change. It was like being born again.

He felt free. The shackles peeled away, but there was still one more step.

"Batman?" Joker asked. There was nothing there.

As if on cue, Bruce stepped forward into the light, the familiar tuft of black hair made its way out, followed by a handsome mature face which was attached to the Bat attire. It was more than enough for the Joker who gasped at the sight.

"Bat...Bruce?"

Walking on eggshells is easy once you master it, but it was time for a change in the dance.

"Hello, Jack," the other man replied.

The Prince walked towards the other man, studying the handsome features of the billionaire playboy. Nothing mesmerized him more as those beautiful blue eyes he had saw days earlier. They were like the ocean; deep and wide, like cobalt. The Joker settled his hands onto the soft cheeks, touching salubriously.

"My worst nightmare was that you would be the Superham."

The lights in the Batcave lit up, letting the Joker have a better look at the man he venerated beyond all thought. Bruce returned the favor and hugged the Joker closer.


	18. Selina Kyle: Black Diamond

Author's note: Hello, I hope I am not disappointing you all. I do my very best to stay true to the characters without watering them down to fictional beings with cookie cutter personalities, and I know that having a 'sane' Joker is too large a pill to swallow for some, but I promise you that you will see the psychopathic mass murderer we all know and love in the future. Please be patient with me. I have my reasons for taking both the characters down this route and believe me, it's been a scary/refreshing/challenging experience. If you have any questions or comments, don't hesitate to tell me. Oh, and good news! My friend Dark Jester says that she will continue The Game We Play! You can sign the petition by leaving reviews on her page! As always, happy reading! This chapter is Catwoman only again.

Setting: Post Crisis 1985

Beta: Phoenix Skyborne.

Synopsis: Seen and Unforeseen.

After licking her figurative wounds, Selina Kyle was back on familiar territory. The smell of tar and asphalt as poignant as ever as she leapt from one rooftop over another, gracefully landing on a rooftop of a building on Sunset and Reed. She savored the surrounding area as a personal provincial piece of terrain. Instead of high standing grass, there were giant skyscrapers poking at the heavens. Instead of trees and shrub used to hide and pounce on unsuspecting prey, she had used the shadows provided by these industrial landmarks, and while some creatures of the night tended to their young after a difficult hunt, she tended to an entire city. She owned and breathed its faults like her own in spite of its shortcomings. She fiercely protected it like any good mother.

The night sky overhead was a sharp indigo, inviting any of its witnesses to rest. To others, it meant the chase was on. To Selina Kyle, she was at a crossroads. After ridding herself of the cycle she offered a girl who narrowly escaped an attempted mugging and rape. She could still taste the blood on her lip. Surveying from a top tower, she reflect on what had transpired earlier tonight. It made no sense trying to put the pieces together, neither as Catwoman or Selina. It just wouldn't fit Bruce's MO to keep that maniacal hyena in his corner while there's a whole pack of them running out somewhere. All this time, she wondered, and she didn't see it coming.

_Why Bruce? Has he gotten to you too? _

She had heard about the escapes from Arkham and the incident at Gotham Medical, but even this was too far fetched even for him. Bruce was definitely obsessive, without question. He would sweat blood and tears to get to the desired goal even if it was a fleeting one. He would sacrifice a whole month's worth of sleep to nail an illegal ring, but why would he risk his life keeping the Joker around, the very one in the same who broke him time and time again was like trying to undo a Cat's cradle. Did it matter to him more that he was safe within his clutches while a whole group of rabid wild dogs are roaming free? Did he care more about that one rat while the rest have their chance to prepare to infect a whole city?

_God, Bruce, what the hell has gotten into you? _

_You're gone for days at a time while a city is on its knees, you ignore the whole Crane affair for him. What is it about him, Bruce? Why is the Joker all of a sudden on the top of your priority list? You can't forget about Gotham. You're her overprotective father and she's falling apart. A broken back and a quake didn't stop you. _

Catwoman removed the latex mask from her crown and stroked it while deep in thought. The soft winds blew against her black mane. The song of the East End beckoned for her like a wounded buffalo but she still wouldn't budge. The air was thick with blood and time was precious. Sorry, cats, but you're going to have to feed yourselves for right now.

She looked at the torn glove on her right arm. Dried hemoglobin decorated itself on her skin alongside broken cloth. Skinny bastard tore off a good chunk, and that was genuine leather!

_You're not going this alone Bruce. Something is up with you and I intend to find out what. _

On that note, she put on the mask before perching onto the concrete of 1801 S. Bradley Street and swung over the ledge. She landed on the neck of a stone Gargoyle, its rictus grin taunting the Feline Fatale.

"Oh, shut it," Selina shot back. She tiptoed on subsequent statues before plunging off into the industrial jungle below her. Wind blowing in her face, she welcomed the fall. She stretched open, trying to get rid of that leg cramp courtesy of the Joker before curling up into a ball and heading into an alley. Lots and lots of trashcans that looked like they hadn't been collected in the past three weeks served as the ideal spot. Faint meowing gave a sign that she was still alive and on the ground.

"Easy there, Tiger," Selina said softly as she petted the stray brushing up at her feet. "I'd take you with me if it wasn't for unfinished business," she smiled. With that, the mouser got the message and turned back to the alleyway, seemingly distracted by a moth.

Aside from the "spare change" cries from bums, one who was taken by surprise at her elaborate costume and assumed she expensive, nothing really jumped out at her. The place was more desolate than Death Valley and the only ones out at night were the dealers, drunks, addicts, and hookers. Some she knew. All would mind their own thing and stick to their kind , that is unless you posed some visible threat, she fit right in.

On the corner of 8th and Marshall, she surveyed the area, remembering times past when she 'used to work the beat'. So many friends lost, some by the hands of their client, others buy their pimps of boyfriends. You could swear that this part of the East End was haunted by their ghosts. The wind howling was more than make everyone, even newbies, move their trade elsewhere in the vicinity.

"Okay, she said behind the old Chettanham place! You got it?"

What the hell?

Nobody would be that loud at this corner unless they were stupid or naive. This part really stressed down low transactions, so that must mean we've got some new guests in tow. Nobody would know about this place unless someone guided them to it.

It wasn't until the vehicle, a navy blue Chevy made a turn on Rosecrans that she followed in hot pursuit.

"No, no, no dingus, she said make a left turn back there!" A beefy red haired hit man in an ill fitting shirt barked at the driver, a mousy looking geek with a stuttering problem.

"H-hey, man! I-I, only came h-here twice!"

Whether it was out of habit or because he was scared, it was annoying.

"Look ROY! These are serious looking people and I don't want you screwing around just cuz you can't handle the way your bladder reacts to these kinds of things!"

"I-I don't know, Chuck! Easy! I-I, was listening to ya and I got d-distracted!"

It was like watching a raccoon go up against a walrus.

"You lil chickenshit! I shoulda got Larry instead, if it wasn't for that cow of a wife he-"

"Oh, will you two please shut up!" A woman's voice screeched. "Roy, just get into an alley and turn around. There's one two lights up," she said casually, temporarily silencing the hot boiled atmosphere.

"Geez, lady, normally youse is so quiet in da courtoom. It's always the quiet ones isn't it?" Chuck smiled into the rear view mirror, catching the not so welcoming glare of the guest passenger. "'Sides, what you doin get involved with dees people?"

"My business is my own Mr. Needlemeyer, and I wish you wouldn't tread on things that don't concern you," she said sharply. She took out a gray medium sized bag and placed it aside her suitcase.

"Hey, hey, easy, there. I ain't asking for your social, lady!" The large man yelped.

"I am not paying you to make conversation with me," she snapped. "Just keep driving and park on Olive and Branch, and for god sakes do not move from there. You'll get your money in full at 8:46 on Wednesday."

At that moment, it was best decided that no more questions would transpire and all three kept to themselves.

Not far behind, Catwoman was on their tail.

When the vehicle finally made a complete stop, she crept back into the shadows, pressing her back against the cold walls, claws scraping against the granite. Even before she got out of the car, Selina Kyle recognized the figure of Elena Romero step out of the car. The scent was unmistakable: Dreamwaters No. 5.

She crouched, the wind still in her lungs, no letting so much as a breath escape. Skillfully and silently, she stalked. The attorney wiped her brow and said something inaudible to the driver and his friend before it headed off into the night. She smelled fresh prey but it wasn't time to strike yet, no. She had an inkling that this morsel would lead her to a much larger treat.

It was about a good twenty yards before the two women stopped in front of a remote area of town, famous for its dilapidated buildings which served as havens for juvenile delinquents and even more illicit activities. Selina found a pipeline and managed to crawl up without being detected. She was hiding within the shadows when a silky voice called for its new visitor.

"Is everything well?" It was female, no doubt. The doctor cleared her throat in anticipation, almost as if she wasn't ready to come out here despite her relatively calm demeanor only moments earlier.

"Everything is going according to plan," she reassured the mysterious stranger.

"Good," she whispered. "Have you got the money?" That accent was familiar. Eastern no doubt. She encountered a troupe while trying to retrieve a jade cat with Wildcat from an Old Kingdom cult. They were everywhere.

"All in unmarked bills," said the other woman. She offered a bronze colored suitcase to the other. Selina stretched herself over the ledge in attempt to get a better look. She didn't have too. A figure in a white trench coat and hat emerged from the pocket out of ranger and stood in front of the doctor, taking the moment to study the contents of the case. Gloved hands rubbed the bills together, sampling, testing.

"You're playing your parts beautifully, doctor," the woman said silkily. This was too weird, Selina thought. It wasn't that she caught the lawyer engaging in clandestine activities for the second time. Rather, it was the vague notion that she had only the slightest clue who Romero was in cahoots with. This was too weird of a coincidence.

Cats can sense that sort of thing.

"Is it too much to ask, what's become of Jonathan?", the woman asked with a skittish voice. Her stone cold facade dissolved into one that conveyed a glint of concern.

"Don't worry about your precious professor, doctor. I still require a few more errands from you before we move onto the next phase. Only until then will you savor the fruits of your labor," said the broad with the foreign accent. Her face hidden by a full mane of midnight black hair. Her eyes glinted with devilish glee.

"It's a shame that your rival refused to take part. We had promising assets that could have bettered her chances," she said before shutting down the case. Selina crouched against the wall, trying to put a face with that voice.

"Exactly, how effective are you?" The doctor queried. Her voice shaking and Selina could tell that the other woman gave her a look of insult and disgust.

"Ms. Romero, I would suggest that it is unwise to question the authority and grasp of my employer. His desire to keep our efforts discreet is to keep the vulture-like media from tainting his image from tawdry like gossip. We are an organization that prides on humanitarian effort and as we have seen, you have done nothing but your hardest to do so, and for that we commend you by offering you a hand."

"But why can't this be done in the privacy of my office? I assure you, you are safe..."

"Those matters are of little concern for us, doctor. We offered you a chance to win this case on your behalf. All we require is that you keep our business to a minimum level. My employer is of similar bent with you. Mere mankind has no place to judge his fellow man. Now, onto more pressing matters, do you have the evidence?"

The doctor gulped.

"Excuse me?" the foreign one asked. "I didn't quite get that."

"I, well, those tapes, were, stolen." She said in a shaky voice.

Well, hello nurse, the Catwoman thought.

"What do you mean, stolen?" The mystery woman pressed.

"They were taken." She said simply, hiding the fact that they were. By force.

The other woman scoffed. Her body guard, a large man about six feet five and heavy set, pulled out a dagger.

"PUT THAT AWAY!" The woman screeched at him. "Never mind, how. Were they the black tapes?"

"No, fortunately no. They were the interviews," she said assuredly. The other woman nodded in slight relief but she was still disappointed at the loss.

"Very well. I suppose we can cut off a finger to save the whole hand," she said to herself.

"I suppose I shouldn't be too hard on you, doctor. You are up for an award at this week's gala, are you not?"

Romero nodded.

"Congratulations. I recommend that you wear something yellow, something to highlight that beauty. You are the guest of honor, and you deserve this little treat," she smiled.

The doctor, adjusted the collar on her shirt, trying to hide an insecurity she felt around this woman.

"Now, we shall commence any further plans for another time. I will send you something shortly." She said magnanimously. The attorney looked down.

"Is there something that matter, doctor?" The exotic foreigner inquired.

"No, nothing. Except, well. I was wondering when I could see him, again. Even once."

"Patience is a virtue doctor, he's survived worst." She said reassuringly. "Now, give me the case and we shall be on our merry way," she said while reaching out.

She nodded and offered the case to the mystery woman.

Both were knocked off balance by a sudden clash out of the dark. Bills in twentys and tens poured open.

"NOT SO FAST YOU!" Catwoman growled. She stood over both women proudly.

"SHOOT HER!" The exotic one demanded. Her pet pulled out his weapon once again, aiming for the Catwoman, who barely dodged the dagger and sent the big lout into a barrel of trash. She leapt on top of another helping of hired muscle and used her whip to hog tie another. With the ease of a puppet master, she reunited both heavies and sent them off into a crashing halt.

"YOU FOOLS! GET HER!" The dark haired woman ordered. She barely made it to the back door of a white car. She pulled out a pistol and began shooting at the Catwoman, who dodged the bullets by caterwauling in all directions. A hot one flew past a tuft of hair on her right cheek.

Too close.

"Get in here! ALL OF YOU! NOW, YOU IDIOTS!"

Romero and the hired help all scurried into the vehicle, they managed to get the suitcase, but not without sacrificing at least 3K. They zoomed off into the distance, leaving the Catwoman to deal with the aftermath.

This was one hell of a night.


	19. That's what friends are for, Harl!

Edited June 7th 2008

Synopsis: Harley makes her debut!

The lights went out and deep heavy footsteps echoed down the cold corridors of Arkham Asylum. Victor Fries was making progress with the doctors who kept him under 24 hour watch in his coolant-preserved cell. Still and solemn like a frozen statue, he dreamed of his precious Nora, back in his arms, her warm smile melting away the icy shackles of his broken soul. A teardrop peaked out of the corner of his eyelid, freezing and dying halfway down his cheek, dissolving and disappearing into the lonely atmosphere like his old self.

The high security wing was unsettlingly quiet this evening, as it had been for the past week and a half, but that was because the assortment of the most vile of the vile had taken advantage of the explosion. The place had become a quiet haven which gave the doctors time to administer their attention to B-list cases like Julian Day, the Calendar Man and Victor.

The chills of the cold night were the only sounds that cradled Harley Quinn to sleep.

Yellow pigtails shook as she tried to keep herself warm against Mother Nature's unforgiving brow. Soft cries emanated from the ex-psychiatrist who was doomed as soon as she set foot into the Asylum. Looking for a quick chance to earn cash by interviewing and perhaps taming Arkham's most famous resident, Harley Quinn was now paying the price. Her tragic delusions mixed with an emotional center teetering on the edge made her the prime target for the Clown Prince who took advantage of her sentimental leniency. It had been days since she had seen her puddin'.

How many a night she dreamed of being whisked away on a night like this, to be broken out of and just be close to her Joker, the man who brought her out of her shell. He was unlike all the other mass murderers the media glorified. They had fractured minds that would manifest themselves in their sloppy work. The Joker was different. He was brilliant. His philosophy as Walking Death in human form brought her out of the safety and seclusion of the shadows and into a deep abyss that no one, not even her friend Joan Leland thought possible for redemption. She turned herself over and reached for a book, The Guest by Albert Camus.

If madness was such a bad thing, why is it that the revolutionaries and creative types are almost always the crazies? You might as well say that Alexander the Great a little off in the head when he crossed the steppes of Macedonia and into the exotic Orient or that Octavian was deluded to try and bring back stability to Rome after the battle of Actium.

The man was an artist. Why conform and contribute to the chronic apathy of the masses that are nothing but a machine, trained to follow orders like dogs unless someone rattles the cage?

_But he was also a selfish, conceited, pasty faced rat!_

He's a charmer.

_He's a slimy prat, Harl! DING DONG! He tried shooting you up in a ship! _

"QUINN! Lights out!" barked an orderly, banging at her Plexiglas window.

"HEY! I'm reading here, FRANK!" Harley squealed. She held up a book for the orderly, trying to show some legitimate reason as to why she didn't do as ordered. He banged on the glass with beating stick.

"Why you little! Don't make me come in there!" He bellowed like a bull.

"I'd like to see you try!" Harley responded with a raspberry. The guard snorted and went on his merry way.

"Jerk," Harley muttered to herself, curling up against the brick wall, tossing the book aside. She huffed and reflected on how her free time had been severely restricted as a result of the blast. Her TV time 

cut and it was limited for two hours from 1PM to 3. It wasn't worth it because Maury would only talk about the same thing. The only thing that was guaranteed, depending on Jeremiah and Joan's moods was one hour in the gym area.

She missed Arnie, Hat Boy, and Red. At least they didn't yell at her as much as Mr. J or the guards. Red was a prude, true. Ah, scratch that, she was a nag. She was a nice nag though, at least she cared. She lay down on her side, cursing the impending routine that would await her at sunrise.

But there would be none.

It was five to eleven with one junior guard at West Wing and another in the candid camera room that the plan took course.

A root rose from the ground, snaking its way up the concrete walls on the south side. Jerry, age 53, Pink Floyd fan, married with two kids, was helping himself to a jelly glaze donut and some decaf when he noticed a tree trunk snaking its way through an open window.

"Huh? What the hell!" the middle aged guard barked.

It was thick, about ten inches in diameter and it had no trouble in lifting itself up into a graceful poise before striking anyone within the immediate vicinity. The orderly began shooting but it did little to stop the giant shoot which kept growing and oozing its way into the room. Twenty, thirty, fifty feet of botanical beast grew, chasing the middle-aged guard out.

The sirens began blaring, much to the disgust of the rest of the troupe in ward five, the high security wing.

"HEY DO YA MIND!" Harley yelled while holding a pillow to her head. "Sheesh, can't a girl get some beauty sleep around here?!" She threw the pillow at the wall, ready to investigate the ruckus. "Well, what do we have here?" she mused while she saw a giant potato wrestling a couple of the orderlies. Darrel, the younger one shot repeatedly at the bush root but its powers only increased, seemingly as if each bullet only angered it and served this very purpose.

"Now that's entertainment!" she squealed. Bright blue eyes transfixed themselves onto the scene whilst ignoring the intruder that was creeping up right behind her. It wrapped itself around her small ankles, pulling her back towards the two-by-three foot window.

"HEY!" Harley screamed, trying to free herself from the giant pod by wriggling her legs violently. It only grasped more strongly, hindering movement when it felt it was needed. She was only feet away from the other side of her cell before it burst open. Debris soon filled the place, blinding anyone within its path. Harley coughed while squinting.

"You know! (COUGH) If ya wanted to break me out, ya shoulda brought me a gas mask! (COUGH)."

"Hmmmmm, if I did, then that would have taken me extra time. Besides, my toxins should immunize you from any wood scrapping against your lungs," a female voice responded. It was low and seductive. A being with long hair emerged from the bits of dust flying in the air. Harley brushed a fluff of hair from her face.

"R-red?" she said to the silhouette standing before her.

"Hello, Harley. Long time no see," Pamela Isley smiled. She lent a pale greenish hand to her friend.

"Where ya been? You missed karaoke night!" Harley exclaimed as she brushed off dirt from her jumpsuit.

"Killing time until the time was right. You're not hurt are you?" Poison Ivy said in a maternal tone. She brushed a pigtail to the side, trying to get a better look at the jester.

"Me? Nah!" Harley scoffed. "I kinda thought it was you! I stole an eggplant from the cafeteria in case you were coming back, but it got kinda-"

"Later Harl, but first, we have to get you out of those clothes," Ivy said assertively.

"'scuse me?" Harley asked coolly. In that instant, a pink mini-cooper with the license plate ROSEBUD zoomed out of the forest adjacent to the asylum.

"If only those bullheaded law firms made them like her," Ivy said lovingly while petting the hood of the car. "Heartless bastards!"

"You sure you got enough gas for that, baby?" Harley smiled at her friend.

"It's not gas that this runs on, Harley. In fact, the very concoction poisons the atmosphere. In fact, had I not exposed you to my immunity toxins you would have ended up like those two over there."

Poison Ivy pointed at two other guards who were on the ground. No doubt dead by the gas. She did whatever she could to preserve Mother Nature's treasures, even if it meant exterminating vermin, especially the hairless bipedal ones.

"Oh, I see," Harley observed. Ivy threw her a fresh batch of clean laundry: Her signature red and black costume and cap with the bells smelled like April Showers.

"Hey, where are we going?" Harley piped up as she pulled the suit over her hips.

"To tend to some unfinished business, but first, I was thinking a little girls' night out." Ivy smiled while folding her arms across her chest.

"Ooooh, I could sure go out for a pizza!" Harley exclaimed. Ivy's eyes tensed.

"Oh, all right, we can have mushrooms but nooooo anchovies! YUCK!"

"That's my girl," Ivy purred, putting an arm around the harlequin.

"Hey, have you seen Ratman and Boy Blunder?"

"Not yet," Ivy responded, starting the ignition. "But I will soon..."

The engine roared to life and both women zoomed out of the road and into the highway.

_I just had to do this. I'm tired of seeing Harley Quinn, the idiot, glorified in a lot of fanfics. I wanted to do something a little different with the character. _


	20. The Dark Knight vs Bruce Wayne

**Updated: June 7th, 2008**

Author's note: No, I'm not dead. I just wanted to take a long and extended break from fanficcing. I went to San Diego itself and I met a few fan favorites including Vertigo's Brian Azzarello, Dan Brereton and Paul Dini. Pictures available upon request, of course. Please forgive me for not updating, work gets in the way and I'm catching up with other fandoms. I hope this experience has been enjoyable for you as it has been for me. It has been a truly gratifying one. As always, reviews are welcome. I love hearing the thoughts of my readers. Ciao!

Era/setting: Post crisis 1985. Think Killing Joke, Arkham Asylum, some mild BTAS.

Pairing: Do you have to ask?

Genre: Romance, drama, angst, mystery.

Rating: R

Feedback: Much appreciated.

Joker's mind was racing at a thousand miles per hour. Images and thoughts flashed into his brain as he tried to make consistency of what was happening before him. It was all so sudden, like a blow to his stomach. All this time, wasted to get the Batman's attention and here he was pouring himself out. Joker was sure that he felt it too. Why would the Batman reveal his deepest most private secret? But it still wasn't enough to quench the thirst of the Clown Prince who yearned for more attention from the Dark Knight.

Was it all an act? No it couldn't be. The kiss felt all too real. There was so much passion, emotion. _Connection_, more than they had in their lives combined. It didn't feel like a lead on. There was too much risked for the sake of petty information on the Weed or Spooky, wherever the hell they were. Joker was reeling in the moment. It was just him and the Bat. He bit his lower lip girlishly. Blushing when he felt those baby blues shine on him like a searchlight at the asylum, only this was better.

"You're plotting, again?" A gentle voice resonated from the cave of that beautifully carved mouth.

"Hmm, what? Did you say something, Ba-Bruce?" Joker said dreamily as he studied the playboy's fine features. They were soft and welcoming, unlike the dark and menacing stone cold stare of the Dark Knight. He was still trying to put the pieces together, but how do you do that with a man who demands all out mystery and who lived and breathed in the shadows?

"Nothing," Bruce smiled. "I just grown accustomed to that look after all this time." Joker giggled demurely at the compliment.

"Oh, you and your little obsessions! Is there anything you know about me? I don't wanna find out that I'm hugging an imposter here, you know!" Joker beamed. It was like talking to a three year old child for the vigilante.

"Well," Bruce cleared his throat, his throat as parched as the desert after their kiss broke, "I've learned a lot of new things in the past few days, like the fact that I have a lot to learn," Joker nodded, prodding him on. He laid a white hand on the other man's shoulder. "….I can't keep putting people in a jar..." Bruce said as he drifted off into a dreamlike state, suspended in his own thoughts like a tightrope at a circus, like carefully choosing his own words on a delicate balance beam.

"Oh, but am more than peachy keen here with you!" Joker squirmed as he pressed in closer to the Bat. "I will even stop the mass murderer charade and stay here if this is what it takes to get you to trust me!" The Batman patted the moss of grassy green.

"You really mean that? You're not just saying that to cater to my better nature?" Bruce asked gently. It was a long stretch for the Joker, even if it was to get his attention. Addicts don't recover at the drop of a hat.

Joker grated his nails onto the black Kevlar pressing onto his face. He swallowed at the prospect. The words just came out, it was an impulsive move. He wasn't sure himself if he could live up to the duty. Those were comforting words. But then, he hadn't killed since his stay here and he hadn't had so much as a thought of a murderous thought in his stay down here. He had half hoped that the Batman had only heard the last part of that sentence instead. He wasn't sure if he could do it. It was all second nature that he didn't think about it. It was like a cat cleaning its paws. He would do anything for his Bat. Anything.

"Joker?" The Batman said firmly.

"Yes, Batman," Joker piped up gingerly.

"Did you mean what you just said, about not killing any more?" The Batman pushed back the Joker, wanting to a good look at those shades of green to try and catch any nuance of truth to them. The Dark Knight would detect the tiniest molecule of deception.

Joker pressed his lips inward, giving pause for thought.

"I mean, what I say, Batman. Why don't you trust me? I thought we were making progress." Joker replied softly. He traced a thumb across the tight jaw line, that somewhat melted at his touch. The Batman grabbed the pale hand almost immediately, not letting go easily.

"I heard you the first time. I want to know if there is any merit to what you said, or is that an empty promise?", a familiar tone crept back into Bruce's mind. He momentarily restrained himself and that it didn't have to be this rough. He felt so vulnerable and exposed without the cowl, but that didn't mean having to be weak too.

"I told you, I will chain myself to that pipe over there is that's what it took for you to take my words seriously. Aren't we supposed to be beyond that?" Joker said coyly. Bruce breathed in deep, knowing all to well that this was going nowhere, so why not try another method.

"What if Robin is down here, it doesn't matter if he's with me or not," Bruce said firmly, not wanting the Joker to get away quickly.

"Not unless he strikes first, I might give him a scrape on his knee, but I won't lay so much as a finger on the bird. You have my word on that." The Prince shot back. He wiped his hand on the cape just over Bruce's shoulder, hoping that the gesture would cool the fire that raged within the Bat.

"I'm not so sure if I believe you," Bruce replied quietly.

"That's just it, you don't have to," Joker whispered. "We can do this merry go round all night, and you still won't believe me, but that's okay. I find it kind of cute, you know. You're like a little boy in a candy store, always prodding….."

The words cut deep and they hurt because they were true. The silver lighting that exposed personal and private shortcomings were like a remedy, a bridge between him and the Joker. He had kissed the Joker out of momentary sanity but that wasn't about to get dismissed quickly. He had invested as much into the exchange as Jack did.

The silent treatment wasn't the Joker's favorite pastime. It drove him up that wall that his bat was always mysterious like that. He wasn't sure if he disagreed, wanted to kill him or whatever. Gross apathy was more of a pain that outright disapproval. He needed to hear the Bat's voice, even if his thoughts contradicted his own.

"Have I touched a nerve or are you thinking again?" Joker asked demurely. His long fingers were touching the base of Bruce's neck, barely gracing it. He was growing more and more fascinated with the human side of the Bat.

"Thinking helps me," Bruce stated simply. It felt so easy saying it because it wasn't the Batman talking. The Bat didn't feel, but he still maintained a full grip on Bruce's ego. He was as wound up as a time bomb with a few cut wires that cut the moments and slowed them down to a crawl.

"Not really, no," Joker counteracted. "You say one thing but you're doing something else. You need to loosen up," Joker smiled. He leaned in close to get a smell of the Batman. Blood, sweat, and dirt never felt so fragrant, but that didn't feel as good as the smooth skin on Bruce's cheek. "You know what your problem is? You're so uninhibited," Joker nudged.

Bruce gulped. This was unfamiliar territory. His logic told him that he had to keep that distance. He couldn't afford to get close, but that was thrown out the window already, considering what had transpired in the past half hour. More and more, an alien yet very recognizable notion made its presence into Bruce's frame of mind and he couldn't ignore it. It had been nagging him for sometime to get out and only now had it taken its first few breaths. It felt liberating.

It was like learning to walk again, getting used to a new terminology that he wasn't sure that he could master, at least with the Joker, and much less long term.

It was getting late and tomorrow was going to be a busy one. Double shifts at that and Bruce Wayne had to attend the gala at the Red Lion hotel and Batman had some catching up to do with the slums of the city. He was starting to miss the thrill and he found no signs of any dangerous activity, and he trusted Selina to work on her own.

She usually did.

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Turning to his side, Bruce dreamt peacefully more than he ever had in the past six months. His mind was in a state of sustained placidity that he didn't flinch when he felt the Joker's white arm creep under his and pull him closer. The prince The Joker let out soft cries into the nip of Bruce's neck that it tickled him awake. The sensations on the back of his neck sent volts of electricity down his spine, shaking him awake from his slumber. Bruce was cautious in trying not to wake the man lying next to him. He lifted the limp wrist slowly, stopping only when he heard the Joker take deep breaths. He inched a few inches forward, creating some room between the two of them. It wasn't until there was enough of a rift between the two of them did the Batman set down Joker's hand which was returned with soft moans on part of the sleeping jester.

The dripping sounds awoke the sleeping beast as Bruce turned over to the Joker and got a good long look at him. Red lips curled up into a suggestive smile. Bruce couldn't help but to stare for a few moments before snapping back into reality. He was restless, he was tired, but most of all, he had work to do. It had been days since he had been on patrol and sunrise was still a few hours away. He turned towards the well lit cave and eyed the Batmobile which was angled at a position and ready for a run on the town. The cowl was at hand and the Batman's ever going restiveness would not let Bruce serenely snooze. It was going to be one of those nights.

The engine roared back to life. Its yawn was a bitter and loud snarl that echoed in the cave's corridors. Winged mammalian cavies screeched out of the recesses of the cave, bringing back life to the dismal habitat, if that were possible. Joker shifted slightly at the sound and turned over, turning his back at the sleek black vehicle which zoomed quickly out of cave.

God, it felt good to be out again. The smells, the adrenaline rush, it all came creeping back into his senses. It was all coming back to him. The excitement and the danger, he missed it. It was like coming home again, like regaining feeling on a phantom limb.

A scratchy kind of noise was sounding off by the radio system.

""H-hey, Bruce, are you there?" A young voice inquired. It was Tim. The Batman turned up the volume.

"Robin. Are you there?" Bruce asked abruptly. He had almost forgotten about the young lad, though the tone of his voice didn't suggest anything of utmost danger. Still, he was a son to him. Both he and Dick were sons to him, no matter how old they got.

"Batman, how are you? Are you okay?" The Boy Wonder queried at the man he regarded as a paternal figure.

"I'm fine, are you? Is Dick keeping an eye on you?" Bruce corrected him. The tone is his voice blunt and reassuring. He wasn't in the mood to divulge his rendezvous at the moment so he turned the tides back to Robin.

"Yeah, yeah, he has. We've been worried sick Bruce. Alf kept telling us that you were out of the country for awhile, but it isn't like you fly out without a word," the young lad protested. It soured the Bat's heart that he had to lie to the people he loved like this. I owe you on, old man.

"I made some necessary arrangements, but I'm fine, Robin." Batman shot back. He adjusted the microphone set. "Is there anything on Crane or the others?" It would have done no one good sulking around like that. He was back and ready for anything.

"No, surprisingly not, but you know what they say about the calm before the storm," Robin shrugged internally.

"Anything from the commissioner? Has he told you anything, any leads?" The detective prodded on. Any nuance of a promising lead and he would pounce on it.

"Well, he did ask me about you a few times, but I had to make up a few excuses. I told him that you went to Qu'raq to stop a rebel militant group from overthrowing the democratic government." Robin said with a smile.

"Good answer," Batman said reassuringly. Hard to imagine he was only 17.

"Well, it wasn't easy. I had to remind him about what happened with the Joker and the UN a few years ago," the young man replied. He noted a hint of warmth from the normally stone cold Dark Knight but decided not to push the moment.

"Hate to cut this short, Bruce, but I think you have an incoming call," Robin said distractedly. Perched on a highway bridge mast, the Boy Wonder looked at the direction of the infamous signal shining up at the night sky. Bruce caught note of it and pressed onto the pedal.

"I see it. Over and out, Robin." Bruce said quickly, momentarily treasuring the idle chat with his ward. It felt comforting hearing him again.

The Batmobile zoomed faster towards the skyline, heeding the commissioner's call.

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_Sorry guys, that's it for now. Originally, I was planning to have this chapter three times larger than it was but due to work related stuffs and the fact that you are being so patient, I decided to throw it in. Next stop: One of the terrible trio (no, not that lame terrible trio) makes a guest appearance and fun with Joker and his baby sitter, Alfred! Stay tooned, kiddies!!_

_PS: If you are a registered member of livejournal, you can access my new gallery which is coordinated with the fabulous and very talented Jokerlady. Archive of Love: Selected Works for the Passion Vault by Madmadonna and Jokerlady is up with more works in process. _


	21. Revelations Part 1: Riddler's secret

CHANCE21REVISED

_Chapter 21: Revelations Part 1_

_**Updated February 11, 2008**_

* * *

He still wasn't here. Nothing.

There had been no sign of him for days and the city was silent. Not quiet but silent as if its breath was still while anticipating the proceeding moments, but judging by the casual stride of its inhabitants, it may as well be quiet. But for James Gordon, it wasn't quiet and it wasn't silent. It was suffering. For days, the pack of wild dogs have laid dormant while Gotham bled internally. It was a silent epidemic that waned sometime after the announcements on the news. Immunity was extinct and the virus had mutated to attack its host over and over, eating Gotham City from inside. It was fear and it was apathy and freaks like Crane drank it like nectar. The signs were all over the place: Cars sputtering carbon into the air as they sped away, stores closing early or hiring more warm bodies when they could barely make ends meet. Even little children couldn't go outside for a potty trip unless they were accompanied by faculty. This was the domino effect and he was waiting to make His next move, the way lions do when they know they have the zebras in their midst.

A howl of wind broke the train of thought of the old officer but he knew better. The dance steps were almost automatic.

"When are you going to get around to better security?" James Gordon retorted before he drank a small bit of coffee.

"With Wayne money behind it, in awhile," a dark voice responded. A pointed shadowy figure perched itself a few feet away from the commissioner. The air was tense.

"Well, he'd better start cracking because there's been another escape. Quinn. Looks like Poison Ivy is behind it," James Gordon said dismissively. He sucked on the Marlboro and savored its taste as it temporarily mitigated the restlessness within him. So, there was another fox in the hen house and as cute as she was, Harley Quinn was no angel. Thanks to some chemical exposures from Ivy, her gymnastics are a super power in their own right.

"Any reported sightings?" The caped figure pressed on. The commissioner turned to face the direction of the voice, thinking it was not worth the anger it had caused to ignore him.

"Rumors are going around that there is a cult involved but I haven't found anything significant. I pulled my resources out on Sheldon Valley and Bristol, the last two places that reported something."

White pupils tensed deep in thought as it analyzed all angles, fitting in even the most mundane clue into the whole picture. Like random pieces in a chess game, they had a connected purpose. He had to admit that he wasn't able to solve this mystery just yet, but he had enough just to make the next move.

Crane had a likely vendetta against the Joker and it was likely that Nygma, Tetch and Isley used the chance to escape, but if that were indeed the case, why haven't they made their next strike? Aside from Harley Quinn's successful escape, they were all silent. It was also very possible that they were somehow in cahoots but Arkham's Finest weren't known for their honor amongst thieves code. They were like vultures trying to pick the best spoils. It was a farfetched idea but he had to admit that not even Holmes would rule that distinct prospect out. The very notion of them being connected in a complex web, cooperating and scheming, while Gotham was on her knees seemed like a very likely one, but why? Joker wasn't an unlucky man who fell into a wrong place at the wrong time kind of bomb. They had purposely set it there. Their move was clear cut and precise like a surgeon's delicate work and if that was indeed so, what would they gain out of this? That must mean that something much bigger was at work, something much much bigger. There has to be a big payoff as to why Scarecrow has sustained gassing the city with fear gas or why Ivy hasn't claimed territory in Robinson Park. The bottom line was there was something underfoot.

The commissioner blew a puff of smoke that evaporated into thin air, taking note of the silent glare of Gotham's Guardian.

"Listen, if you don't mind, I can relocate some more forces from the surrounding counties. I can get them out here in two hours max."

"No. You don't want the city in a state of panic," The Dark Knight growled warningly. The commissioner dared not push the subject further. He didn't see the criminal element breed like microbes in a Petri dish like He did.

"Look at yourself! You're lucky you didn't miss anything! You need extra breathing time, so why don't you ask your friends..."

"I. Don't. Have. Any. Friends." A deep dark voice said huskily, sounding more animal than human. Just at that moment, Gordon pulled out a small white box wrapped in a thin string from his trench coat.

"You certainly have fans then," he added dryly, eying the dark shadow that emerged from is perched position, which was now looming over him like a phantom.

"Doesn't look like a bomb. Found this on my desk for you two days ago."

"Open it," the Dark Knight demanded.

Upon that order, the commissioner used a small pocket knife to undo the knot that wound up the box tightly. He tossed the string and opened it. There was nothing but popcorn on the surface. It felt heavy before he opened it. After shifting for a few seconds, a white envelope emerged from the pile.

"You might wanna read that," the chief officer said warningly and handed the small note to Batman. The envelope was sealed loosely and when he lifted the cover, a small green card greeted him. He pulled it out only to find a very curvy and familiar green emblem. A green question mark.

"What the hell?" James Gordon gasped. Batman tossed the note and opened the card. Encased inside, a ticket that said 'The Box'. It came with a coupon that said 'With compliments.' "What's this?" Gordon asked suspiciously. Was this some kind of sick joke?

"It means he has something for me," the Batman replied heavily. "It also means that he'll want something in return, but he won't get it." Like hell he won't.

The plans seemed to have taken a whole new angle. "I'll promise he won't," he growled menacingly.

"I don't get it," the commissioner scratched his head. He had no clue how deep the dregs of Arkham could breach. It was only the first snowflake before a hellish winter.

"It means he has a clue," Batman stated simply, hiding the tokens. Nygma didn't give those away like free candy. He had only hoped that it wasn't too late.

"Listen, you sure you don't need my help, it's just that-" a vibrating ticklish sensation arose from his pocket pants. Barbara was calling. "Hello? Barbara? Listen sweetie, you mind holding for a sec. Listen, if we could just..." he found that he was talking to air again.

"I hate it when he does that," Gordon muttered.

* * *

Leather fingers gripped the steering wheel, hot with pressure as the Batmobile raced down the Sprang Highway. Only moments earlier, his schematic was laid out perfectly. The mechanics were in just the right place only to be broken by an extra task which would bring the house of cards down. This meant starting from scratch again, back to the drawing board after everything made so much sense but now this showed up on the radar. But then he knew it was his own fault when he tried to bottle things up and tried to label them to make it easier on himself when he knew that it was like nailing jell-o to a wall, like sending them to Arkham when he knew that it wasn't the best of places for any hope of rehab. Was it a bad habit that he was too stubborn to admit? Was he responsible for spawning the plague that ravaged the city day in and out because his own principles demanded that they be black and white?

If Edward Nygma got himself into this grand scheme of things, what was his big payoff? His compulsion for conundrums and riddles made random things together and make sense, albeit a warped one. It was also likely that he was not involved and that this was entirely of his own doing. If this was his first attempt as an independent Doppelganger, it still didn't answer the question as to why he sent Gordon a note.

A villain is someone who opposes the protagonist. An antagonist is someone who is against the hero. An anarchist was someone who questioned the established conditions of society. That didn't mean he was one of these things because he had sought to control the very evil that proliferated in all these forms. It was a dirty job that reaped few rewards.

Sometimes it was as if madness had its own governing body that breathed through various means, Ivy through her love for botanical gardens and Two Face for the law, but they corrupted their passions for personal gain and at the expense of others, and if chronic apathy was going to allow it, he wouldn't. Not in this city. In Milton's imagination it stands a chance but not in reality. He did have a right to step up for the sake of life and not give into some otherworldly law because Gotham was a world on its own before and after the plague and the quake.

* * *

Pandora's Box was an urban slum that catered to every secret desire and invited it to come out and play through various means. Here is where uptight business men who made 110K a year were spanked by girls in all sizes and who wore whatever their patrons asked. Little Bo Peep and Sugar/Spice were the popular ones. Batman went through a secret passageway that led him to a parkway below the club. The place reeked of stale urine and cheap beer. The dim lighting made it difficult to see ahead which made the Batman adjust his vision settings. He was deep inside a long pass way that looked like it had no ending. Only a white light was in the distance but it was the only working bulb in this dreary place. A rat let out a loud squeak which echoed throughout the underground pass. The Batman jerked back at the sound, turning towards its direction. There was no rat in sight but a large burly man, tattooed, balding in a torn off denim vest patting a paddle on his thick hands. At first the Knight dismissed him as a drunk but the quick reflexes of the heavy put those thoughts back. He gave him a swat across the belly and a kick on the jaw. Another set of hands momentarily blinded him and he pulled this one... this one, younger and black, off of him and threw him a few feet away. A loud clanging shook the surrounding area. The other man spat and wiped across his bearded face.

"Don't make this harder on yourself," the Batman warned.

It was futile and he charged. A sudden glide made this all too easy and the man crashed into a pile of two week old garbage. A tapping was heard just then. Wait. Not tapping, more like clapping. The Batman turned to the source. Out of the shadows, a thin man wearing a green top hat and sunglasses emerged, looking proudly at the spectacle, like Nero at his games.

"Impressive," he smiled sarcastically. He placed his gloved hands on the curved top of his cane. A smooth crest of gold glimmered faintly in the spotlight. "Is this any way to treat our guests, Floyd? Harold?" The Riddler grinned like a Cheshire cat at his henchmen.

"Thought he was trouble," Harold the biker said with a belch.

"Harold, you're drunk. I think you've had enough for the night." He turned his cane upside down, still holding it by the curve. "This way, Batman," he added politely with a tip of his hat. "I do apologize for the ill treatment on part of my hosts. Good help is so hard to find these days." Riddler said with a smirk as he led, though he walked almost side by side with his adversary. "I take it you got my gift?" The thin man inquired, staring at the taller darker shadow looming at his side.

"Your mug shot would have made a better present if that's what you're asking me," the Dark Knight said dimly, staring ahead.

"Ah ha ha ha, well it wasn't a new set of bat cuffs. I don't know what size you wear but I thought you might like it," The Riddler said with flair, touching himself to contain his amusement.

"What's this all about, Nygma? Give me one good reason why I shouldn't be rough and tussle you to the ground this instant." The deep and heavy growl barely jerked the Riddler out of his slight. He adjusted his cuffs nonchalantly.

"Because my good Batman, what reason do you have? I have been a good little boy. I am doing nothing but my utmost to help you." The Master of Conundrums said gingerly.

"You're a psychopath who prods on turning everything to a warped puzzle for your own amusement. What reason would you have to help me?" The Dark Knight said hotly. Beads of spit barely graced the cool complexion of the Riddler.

"Because I have some information that you might want, unless of course you'd rather waste a few more days trying to figure out the missing pieces of the puzzle, I can help you out in that regard. I worry about you sometimes, and I have the remedy that just may fix that." The Riddler waved his cane playfully as if trying to break Batman out of his narrow focus.

"Fine." the Batman spat angrily. "I want answers. You say you have them."

"Certainly," the Riddler nodded.

"Very well," the Knight said darkly. "Where is Crane?" He said bluntly. The Riddler shook his head.

"Oh no no no no no, I'm afraid I can't disclose that bit of information, Batman." Nygma nodded. His eyes gleamed with delicious glee at the Batman's protest.

"You just said you had all the answers and that you wanted to help me, so talk, unless of course you want to make this harder, which I will be more than happy to oblige," he stepped in closer, creating an overbearing shadow that covered the other man like a hot blanket.

"That's because my answer would be as good as yours, Batman. You see, I don't know where Crane is and contrary to popular belief, not everybody is BBFs with each other at Arkham. There might be a little something something with Ivy and Harley but let's not dwell on that. You're short on time." The Riddler smiled dementedly. The countenance was not Joker worthy but it was a solid one.

"So then, you won't help me, which means that we're both wasting our time," The Dark Knight said dismissively.

"No, no, I had specific reasons as to why I called you here. We're just having a bit of a... miscommunication." Riddler said softly. Both men stared at each other, trying to pry a secret out of the other, but the chill air was the only life between them.

Batman moved to the side, deep in thought and crunching up his fists in a ball of rage.

"Nice night, isn't it?" The Riddler smiled. "Did you hear about the quake in South America? How about the bridge collapse in the Midwest or the wildfires in Southern California? I could almost swear that the Armageddon was coming." The Riddler added while tapping the gold top of his cane. He turned it playfully as he seemingly talked to himself. "How about those porter potties in the war zone? God, what a circus! I bet Pat Robertson is having a ball!"

"You talk too much. You set the pieces for this game. I already made my move." The Batman said dimly. His patience was wearing thin, as evident in that snarl.

"When was that?" the Riddler said while making a poor futile attempt by shielding himself with his thin arms and cane.

"When I got here," the Batman said simply.

"Question, why do you use such brute force?" The Riddler asked while tapping on the Batman's yellow symbol.

"Because I find it to be the more effective way of getting answers than wasting my breath, Edward. Have you gotten that mundane now?" The Batman said bitterly, sending hot flecks of breath on Riddler's face.

"Temper, temper Batman, Rome wasn't built in a day, you know..." He said as he shifted the crinkles on his jacket.

"And I don't have the time in the world. Get to the point!" The vigilante pushed on.

"Very well," said the Riddler calmly, setting his cane on the floor and tapping it, like a teacher trying to get an unruly classrooms attention. "You might have noticed some glitches in the city: The two explosions at Arkham. The unruly weather. Sounds like the makings of a good Halloween story. Makes my bones chill with a flutter."

Batman did the best he could while withholding a groan.

"Oh, but wait! That doesn't mean that Arkham's finest have been dormant. Oh no no. They are alive and well. You see, the city is merely an hors' dourves before the ultimate prize and we have already begun the next step..."

"You just said that you are not involved with Crane or the others..."

"Hush, Batman! You might learn something if you just listen!" Riddler said bitterly before continuing his train of thought. "Now where was I, oh yes. Phase One was completed a long time ago, but there have been some... micro inequities that have momentarily halted production for Phase Two..."

Phases? Oh, God. Why was all that time wasted in the cave? He was being careless! Stupid idiot! You let yourself fall asleep and you slipped you clumsy fool!

"...been set into motion, but it's Catwoman who has been putting her nose where it doesn't belong which has been the real kicker. Aside from that, everything has been peachy keen, so lemme get to the point. Seemingly random events eventually come together, like a mystery novel, or a Chinese Box...."

Batman felt like his neck had been reined by rope. Time was gone, it was history, and it was all his fault. His breathing patterns became labored.

"If you don't get to the point I will personally feed you to Killer Croc!" He bellowed this time, intimidating the other man.

Pay attention to his words. They may or may not have literal value. It's like speaking in figurative tongues. Learn them and decode them and you will get to get to the secret. All these flowery intricacies could be distractions and yet they could also be clues. His hands felt like asphalt. How could he have been so lazy?!

The Riddler took note of the sudden change of air in the Batman, prompting further words.

"Also, there are rumors abound that you subjugated the Joker. I must say, bravo, but just because you finally caught the host rat doesn't mean you stopped the plague."

Demons. They were only demons. They have their weaknesses. They can be stopped.

"Tell me something I don't know!" The Batman barked.

_He is starting to crack! Like a wall, he is starting to break down! Now to add the final course!_ The Riddler said to himself.

"I can't tell you all my secrets, my inquisitive Bat, but I can give you a little preview of what's to come. Follow me." He gestured with a wave of his gloved hand.

"By the way, how is that cute little dame? The one that always calls you the pet names?"

Dead silence.

"Hi Marlene! Please show us to the exhibit."

Riddler called out to a blonde in leather and fishnets by a neon green EXIT. She led them to a small off way. It was sealed off with a large burgundy curtain. "Thank you, Marly. You may leave." He waited until she was out of sight before he refocused his attention on Batman.

"Question, what do the tender lips of a lover, a ticket to space and the keys that open up to the locked recesses lead to?"

"I thought you were beyond you're old shtick, Riddler. I'm not in the mood," Batman retorted.

"Wrong answer," the Riddler snapped. "You will be timed and I shall expect an answer in a fortnight." The grabbed a piece of the curtain, scrunching up its velvety texture as if teasing the Batman. "And until then, I give thee, adieu!"

With a quick swish, the curtain was tossed aside to reveal a grizzly scene. He had gotten used to these kinds of things out of Joker or Two Face but not this. At most they were a week old. They were cadavers piled up at rotted of burnt flesh and in various states of decrepitude. Some were still being feasted on by giant rats that lived in the sewers but there was another thing that stood out of the pile of corpses. The teeth were showing on the ones who weren't fresh kills and the ones whose skin hadn't yet been pealed back by the vermin. They were peeled back to form an unnaturally forced smile. Joker toxin, but Joker was nowhere near his own creations in the two weeks......

"As you can see, these poor dopes have been exposed to our friend's deadly poison. They didn't see it coming which made it easier for us to use it." The Riddler added dryly.

"You're using Joker's poison to get to me?" Batman bellowed.

"Not using, pushing and we will continue to do so if you dawdle" Riddler said and shut away the gruesome sight.

"Why, Riddler?" Batman's voice was parched, desperate for answers.

"Don't kill the messenger, Batman. I'm just showing you the consequences if you don't play by the game's rules. My only purpose here was to give you a bit of motivation and like Pontius Pilate, I have washed my hands. If you think I'm going to touch those bodies, you are sadly mistaken, my friend," Riddler said sardonically. "You may have the Joker, but we have his poison and we will exploit it further, as if that were impossible!" he pulled out a small handkerchief to wipe away the bead of sweat that settled on his brow.

"You may call it obscene but I like to call it poetic justice." He scoffed.

"You're not getting away with this!"Batman said angrily as he loomed over the Riddler.

"I wouldn't say that," Riddler smirked as he pulled out a small green marble and threw it on the floor. A puff of bluish black smoke poured out of it, consuming the Riddler within seconds. "Ciao!"

Like a raging bull, the Batman turned away in disgust. How could he have been so stupid and so careless!?

The Batmobile roared to life as it raced passed the highways which were still empty in the pre dawn hours. The restlessness and rage were eating him up as he thought of ways to thwart the Riddler's plans.

* * *

Joker's eyes were adjusting and they fluttered faintly in the newly lit cave. The smell of a hearty meal made its way to his nostrils and aroused further activity into his brain. The scent of fresh eggs and coffee invited him over for a taste. He let out a yawn and stretched himself like a cat before turning to the source. He adjusted his robe which had fallen over and revealed a bony shoulder. He ran his thin bony fingers over his greener than summer grass head of hair.

Bruce?

His side of the bed was empty and it was still vague with heat from a warm body. So, the little Bat went out to play, Joker thought as he noted the cave sans Batmobile. Well, fun can come later, the food was too tempting to ignore. Joker settled himself on the edge of the bed and studied the meal which was covered in a silverware top with a tea set and a batch of fruit. Berries and yogurt, how....exotic. Upon lifting the cover, Joker was greeted with an assortment of three meats, a slice of butter, and a batch of three stacked pancakes with two cherries for eyes and whipped cream on the bottom which curved upward. A Happy face. Not even Harley's Eggs Benedict Surprise (as she called it) could surpass this. Joker was about to reach over for a sweetener before noticing something was missing. Ketchup. How can you have eggs without ketchup? There was nothing on the silverware that indicated that it held the desired condiment. Joker frowned. _I just can't have my eggs without a little bit of Heinz!_

He noted a small light coming from the doorway up the stairs. He was undecided if the risk itself was worth it or not but after the many times Harley kept burning their meals he just couldn't live without a little bit of sauce to get rid of that burnt flavor. It should be quick. Just go in get it and get out. I can always ask, Manfred, whatever his name is, no? He seems nice enough.

_Well…here goes nothing…_

"Oh, ho ho ho! Joy, you are too much" Alfred said to himself as he prepared a stuffed pheasant he was about to put in the oven. He turned up the heat to 180 degrees and would leave it there while it basted in white wine. It was an old favorite of Master Bruce.

In the meantime, he took out a wipe and began cleaning up the stove, distracting himself while commercials aired.

"Um, excuse me…" Joker spoke softly, not wanting to startle the old man. "Um, Alfred, is it?" He piped out

The butler stopped momentarily and turned to encounter the white face of the Joker staring back at him with interest. The carved smile in the Jester's face was extended into a polite toothy grin. Alfred wanted to say something, but no words dared pass the boundaries of his throat, so he just let his jaw drop in a silent 'oh'. As a matter of fact, he noted that he had been holding his breath ever since he discovered the Joker in the kitchen. Nothing he had learned in the army or under her majesty's secret service prepared him for having the most dangerous mass murder staring at him in his kitchen.

"Is everything.....OK…yoohoo?" The Joker asked with some concern. From where he was standing he would have sworn that the butler's skin had suddenly become as pale as his.

"Oh, yes yes." Alfred poised as he started to breathe again. He took a deep sigh as he felt the life return to him and absentmindedly started to clean his hands with the wipe. "Er, so how can I help you, Mr. … Joker…?" _Fool! Lock the Clown on the Cave_…Alfred made a mental note to lock the Batcave access to the mansion as soon as the Joker left… if the Clown was planning leaving the kitchen at all. Dear sweet Lord…what if he didn't?

"Well, besides doing a Monty Python impersonation, I was wondering if you had any ketchup I could borrow…"

"Ketchup?" The butler stated simply.

"Yeah, you know…that thick red sauce that comes in a bottle? The one that looks like blood." Joker started noting a blank look on the butler's face. He made a gesture of pouring something onto his hand. "You put it on burgers…hot dogs…EGGS?"

"Oh, yes…" Alfred responded as he turned around in search of the condiment. There was a newly opened bottle somewhere in the kitchen, and it was in glass…if he could only remember where in the kitchen. The only thing he could think of was the fact that he had the Joker in his kitchen, and that the psychopath's reputation made Hungarian Horntail dragons look like fluffy pets. He shifted through cabinet contents: beets, tomato sauce, oil, sardines… Where was the blasted ketchup?

Meanwhile, the Joker was waiting patiently while the old man busied himself. He noted a plate of faux fruit. He grabbed a wax apple, and after examining the fruit, he started balancing it in his hand. The Jester grabbed an orange and pomegranate from the plate and started to juggle all three wax fruits, giggling childishly as he did so. Alfred looked back at the Jester who just beamed a large smile at him while he walked around trying to keep the fruits in the air. The butler resumed his frantic search for the ketchup. With Joker it always started with the giggling first...

After what seemed like an eternity, Alfred found the desired condiment only in the same place where he had searched three times before. Blasted nerves…keep calm Alfred, the butler told himself for the umpteenth time when he saw a small blunt cutting knife that he set aside for easy access. He needed to have a way of defending himself if the Clown decided to try anything….funny.

When Alfred finally turned around to hand the bottle of ketchup to the Clown, he noted the Jester a few paces away from him. He had stopped juggling the fruits, having set them nicely over the counter as he started to explore some of the other kitchen drawers…

My Lord…the silverware… Alfred thought to himself, feeling small beads of sweat running down his face. He put a hand over where he had set the small knife, when he saw the Joker pull a six inch cutting knife from the drawer. The Jester ran a pale finger over the sharp blades and his face formed the perfectly carved smile that he admired reflected on the shiny surface of the knife. The knife was a lot larger than the one Alfred held under his hand…a lot larger…

Alfred's gut tightened and he had trouble forming words. The butler opted to grunt. "Eh-hem."

Joker turned around at the butler who was holding the bottle of ketchup shaking in his hand. The Clown Prince put the knife back in the drawer and grabbed the fruit in his hand. He closed the drawer with a quick thrust from his hip and advanced to the table with the fruit plate.

"These look so real, that I could eat one…" The Joker quipped replacing the fruit on the plate joyfully. He walked towards the butler and grabbed the bottle of condiment, feeling some resistance when he tried to peel it out of Alfred hands. The Clown thought of a joke or two he could tell now, just to soften the tense atmosphere. No, maybe that was not a good idea. The Britons had a weird sense of humor, and it might not come out right. Joker nodded politely and started to walk out of the kitchen when he stopped by the door. Turning around to face the butler once more, he started to examine the bottle of ketchup from all angles.

"You didn't put anything in here, eh Lurch?" Joker said with a slight frown on his face as he eyed the butler. "That would be very…_unfortunate_."

Alfred tried to swallow but his mouth was dry and he felt his heart drop to the floor. All of a sudden he felt very cold.

"I…I….I..." Alfred started to say trying to support himself against the counter. Where was that knife?

Joker smiled gently at the sight. He thought that the stuttering butler sounded kind of cute. Joker busted in laughter that quickly subsided. "It was a joke, Jeeves…just keeping you on your toes…"

Joker left the kitchen between giggles and it wasn't until the door shut that Alfred let out a sigh. His stomach gripped like it had been on a roller coaster.

"Oh my heavens!" He said to himself. He quickly busied himself with more errands. A loud snap was heard and with moments. Master Bruce appeared disheveled, tired, and hungry.

"Trouble on the hunt, Master Bruce?" Alfred inquired with poise, as if nothing happened.

"More than that. I think I'm going to have to take a rain check on that gala tonight, Alfred." Bruce said as he quickly helped himself to a chicken sandwich on rye.

"Oh, I would rethink that rain check and send it back to the writer, Master Bruce. Miss Kyle said she was going to be there and asked if you were going to as well?"

Selina.

"I'll let you know, Alfred." Bruce stated as he headed towards the grandfather clock that lead to his underground lair.

Joker was dabbing some sauce over his meal when he heard Bruce enter.

"Oh, honey, you're home!" Joker smiled. He got up to greet the Batman who glided silently towards the computer and began searching for some data.

"Is something amiss?" Joker inquired from behind Bruce's chair_, _noticing a certain air of apprehension from the Knight. Something must have happened to make Bruce forget his manners, he thought while he looked at the Detective's focused searches on the screen. The Riddler files…?

"It's nothing," Bruce added dryly without looking at the Clown Prince. He tapped feverishly on the keys.

"I don't believe you,_ Brucie_. Last night you were as calm as a lily and now you've got that fire in your belly. Not that you never have, but..."

"It's nothing, Joker. Eat your breakfast." Bruce demanded. He was so snappy.

"What if I said, I wasn't?" Joker said kittenishly as he leaned over the Batman and started massaging the broad shoulders. The Jester let himself real close to Bruce's face, almost whispering the words sweetly to his ears.

"Then I would say, you're lying," Bruce replied bluntly, not giving him full on attention like he craved. The Knight brushed the Jester's hands off his shoulders softly.

"Hmmm, I'm not sure I like that tone of voice of yours, Bruce. How do you expect me to understand if you won't open up to me?" Joker hissed pulling back angrily and crossing his arms over his chest. "This has to do with Crane's case, doesn't it?"

"I said forget about it." Bruce responded a little louder this time. He looked at the Joker with those piercing blue eyes. Joker cocked his head slightly, not liking the tone in his Bat.

"You better watch that smarmy little mouth of yours, Bruce." Joker said warningly, crossing his arms.

"Maybe if you heard it the first time around, then maybe I will!" Batman snarled darkly, immersing himself more into his searches and focusing on the screen overhead.

"No, I will not forget about it, precious. If you're hiding something that is obviously eating you up inside and won't admit it, I won't forget about it. " Joker said in a bad imitation of a Mafioso. " Come on, Bruce…this is your case but it also involves me. Don't you think I deserve to know what's going on too?"

_Silence_

Batman continued opening files and doing searches on the extensive bat-computer database. This conversation was going to reach a stand still if Joker didn't do something. One thing he liked less than be ignored was to be given the silent treatment. Desperate times called for desperate measures….

"OK you asked for it, Brucie…" Joker said sweetly but firmly. He was not going to seat on the sidelines during this investigation. He started to run playful hands all over the Batman's torso. "I'm going to have to tickle it out of you then."

"It's nothing. Nothing that should concern you." Bruce said with a dim voice. He rubbed his temples with his gloved hands, trying to make sense of the spectacle he had witnessed.

Joker stopped the tickling and knelt beside Bruce. He set a tender hand over the Detective's on the keyboard.

"Oh, but if it concerns you, it concerns me. You can't open up to me if something is eating you up like larvae." Joker added softly, touching Bruce's chiseled jaw. The skin was soft like silk and smelled just as good. "You look so helpless, sometimes. Loosen up," Joker smiled, cradling Bruce's head in his arm.

"I can handle it, Jack." Bruce said calmly. He held the hand that graced over his mouth and kissed its wrist. Joker let out a soft whine and settled himself across Bruce's lap.

"Liar," Joker said and nuzzled his nose.

"Little liar," Bruce said gently and kissed the Joker on the neck. Joker laughed softly at the sensation. He then reached up and grabbed Bruce by the jaw line.

"Now, what is it that bugging my widdle Batsy?" Joker cooed.

"I don't know how to tell you this because I don't know how you are going to react…"" Bruce said huskily. He brushed away some of the green curls over the Jester's eyes. Those forest green eyes were now scrutinizing him so intensely…

"My God…" Joker said softly running a playful finger down the Knight's cheek. "Come on Bats….you can trust me… Believe me, there is nothing in this world that can surprise me anymore. I promise I will act sensibly." Bruce looked into the Jester's eyes with some reserve. How many times had he heard the Joker say he would act sensibly…The Clown Prince lowered his face trying to look harmless. "Cross my heart, love. On Harley's grave," The Jester smiled demurely.

Bruce took a deep breath before unveilingthe dark revelation.

"Riddler is using your toxin to poison people." Bruce said automatically.

* * *

_Authors note: Don't worry, I don't have Jim Lee syndrome, I haven't forgotten about you, my dear readers. It's been quite a ride, hasn't it? For those of you who follow my livejournal, which I haven't been keeping properly kept due to RL things, I just wanted to let you know that there have been more additions to the Archive of Love on my LJ profile. The idea came during a late night chat with Jokerlady who provided most of the beautiful art. Please stop by and enjoy! A cover for this story will be up shortly. My other gallery is for KISS related art. Me and my idiotic mistakes. There can never be enough apologies for my tomfoolery. I'm sorry._


	22. Revelations Part 2: One Bad Day

Updated: June 6th, 2008

Overall Plot: Batman and Joker do some psychological delving within themselves and each other.

Rating: R. Think Killing Joke, Arkham Asylum, Man Who Laughs

Genre: Romance, drama, action.

Pairing: Batman/Joker.

Feedback: Yes, please. It's very much appreciated. I love hearing from the readers!

Archive: Yes, just ask me. I usually respond within 24 hours.

Recommendations: The Game We Play, Joker's Playmate, Path of the Jester, Throwaway Card, Blonde

Synopsis: There's a reason why the previous chapter was called Revelations Part One. More secrets are uncovered. Written by MM and special guest Ghost Writer IG.

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"Come again, darling?" Joker said blankly while batting his eyes at the dark figure_, _not fully wanting to grasp the truth behind Bruce's words. The confession gripped him tightly in his gut and his throat went dry.

"I have some samples from the gas which I isolated from an earlier encounter, and I was able to work my way backwards from there. They are the real thing_."_ Bruce said reassuringly. He wanted to shed some light on the impossibly bleak outcome of events. He knew there was always a silver lining in these sorts of things, even at the last minute. However, due to stressed timing, that had become a precious commodity that he had no reason to waste. As slippery as it sounded, Batman knew that there was a remedy to the situation. It was getting there that was the hard part, but sometimes; working under pressure yielded the best results.

"I will work my way until I get to the bottom, I promise," Batman added putting a gloved hand to the bony white shoulder of the Clown Prince, who barely took note of the contact to his skin. It was hot against his cold body.

"Oh, how wonderfully peachy!" Joker shrieked, stepping back and out of Bruce's touch. He walked a few steps behind the chair and started biting into his thumb nail. His eyes had narrowed to tiny slits as he tried to concentrate in the meaning of the words. _Using my toxin? What happened to the copyright of designer drugs? That green, mean son of a bitch…_

"What? Don't start with me, Joker..." The Knight asked hesitantly. Joker was taking this better than he thought he would have…until now.

"That's it?" he Jester finally hissed. The words escaped his mouth like icy darts.

"Yes, why?" Batman said in a calm but stern tone. He reached out for the Joker again, only to have the jester push him aside when he brushed his gauntlet out of the wayangrily_._

"Well, didn't you warn him that is not healthy for him to mess with me?"

"No."

"Didn't you land on top of him like a crazy banshee and knock all the question marks off his coat with one whack at the time?" The Jester asked with a more persistent tone of voice.

"Joker, that's not the way it works, you know that…"

"Why? Didn't it always worked with me, or Croc, or Arnie? Ohhh, the times you broke our bones, wasn't that part of the job?" The Knight looked silently at the quivering Jester. Resentment glinted in those blue orbs. Joker suddenly realized that he was getting into dangerous waters and it was wise to back off. "Okay, okay...Did you at least put a tracking device on the bastard so I can kill him later?" Joker's tone was now poisonous.

"Jack…"

"Don't you Jack me now, Bats," Joker said darkly, pointing a long bony finger to the man in the black costume. "This is…this is unbelievable…the nerve of that guy…and you?"

Joker was confused. The words didn't come easy for him, and any less when he was this angry. His patience was running thin. Didn't this man care for him? Didn't this Detective of the Night promise that he would take care of him? The Jester couldn't believe that the Batman had let Edward Nygma escape after that horrendous discovery. It was as if he had been betrayed by his own blood.

"My God… couldn't you even put a tag on him? I can't believe it." The Joker said sadly while he turned his angular back towards the Dark Knight. The light and shadows outlined the hallow conclaves of his starved body. "I thought…you promised…"

"He escaped before I could interrogate him further," Batman said flatly. "There was nothing I could do…"

The confession sent the Prince to the winds. He trusted his Dark Knight to nail even the most trying of conundrums. Most of all, he trusted Batman to take care of him. He had felt secure in his hands, in his cave by his side, but now…he felt like trash discarded at the side of the road. This wasn't supposed to happen because Batman had all the answers! If he could, he would make Jell-O stick to a wall, but it was all in vain as the clown dealt with another blow.

"So you're telling me that blatant copycat is stealing my shtick and dragging my name in the mud," Joker heaved_ "_…and he just escapes through your hands like some ghost and you couldn't do anything? Bats, I would think that you are not putting enough interest in this case…With me out of the way I was counting on you to save my reputation…" The Joker said deeply. His voice sounded like a sinister low growl.

"You're not exactly high on St. Peter's list, Joker," Batman said quickly. He was then met with the hooked nose of the other man, which barely breached the nostrils from his cowl. Burning eyes dared him to make another quip. "And you are not being sensible about the whole thing," he continued.

"_Sensible? _Don't make me look stupid, Batman! I'm not in the mood!" Joker huffed and aimed his index onto the taut muscle framed suit, tapping strongly.

"Well, if I remember correctly, you're the one that asked me, despite my protesting, that nothing was going on. Would you have preferred that I sugarcoat it?" Bruce glared at Joker's back, barely noting the glint of the white face as it turned slightly to his direction. The Prince sighed, knowing full well that a shouting match was not worth Bruce being mad at him, or giving him the silent treatment because of his now frequent emotional outbursts. He was hurt deep inside that the Batman was not putting much effort in this case, and most of all, he seemed even less interested in helping him keep his reputation as criminal mastermind, but this was the Knight's court, and he had to bow at the rules of the game…for now.

"No, no sugarcoating…but, I don't know. I expected more of you." Joker said softly while grasping at his thin arms, not wanting to give Batman his full on attention. "It's my reputation we are talking about…" The Jester wrapped his thin arms around himself tightly. Maybe the man-Bat didn't care for him, but he still needed to feel secure, even if it was by himself. "How would you feel if I dressed up like you and started running havoc around the city, dragging YOUR name into the mud…wouldn't that make you mad?"

Now this was just getting silly.

"I thought you had changed, Joker. I thought you didn't want to get stuck in the same vicious cycle of violence that has always trapped you, and all you can ask me is if I hurt Nygma…I'm the one who is disappointed."

The bold words hit the Jester like a rock hit glass, and something inside him broke in a thousand tiny pieces. Change…he really wanted to change, to be close to the Batman. He was willing to do anything to stay by the shadow of the powerful detective of the night. This creature of the night even made a turnaround from the old ways, but how could he stay calm and quiet when some second rate criminal like the Riddler, who had no respect and no business considerations, just tries to exploit his most cherished creation…the child of his genius…his toxin. _'Joker…calm down,' _Joker thought as he ran a feeble hand across his forehead,_ '…getting the Bat angry is not healthy…You don't want to be ignored anymore, do you?'_

"Yes…I want to change, but couldn't you have at least…well, couldn't you just have broken his back? Collarbone? Legs? A combination of all three?..."

"That isn't the way it's done, Joker," the Batman growled from behind him. The Prince squeezed tighter. The hoarseness in his voice toppled any sense of security he had. It meant that Batman was slowly losing his trust, his reach, and his lifeline to him, basically. The Mogul of Mountebanks was at a standstill, give into the Batman's wishes and shut up about it or stand up for himself and declare? This wasn't about keeping his reputation as a criminal mastermind, it was about being taken seriously. That was the old life, and he wished not to go back to it if it meant being in Batman's arms. It was his pride and temporary sanity that wanted to hold onto that old life, but it wasn't so glamorous if it meant being pushed aside, and he had gone too far off to make that sacrifice. It had become shriveled and bitter like a fruit past its prime.

There was another option…silence. But that will create a gap between him and the Batman that will be difficult to bridge, especially since he had gone this far. He couldn't deal with rejection, with indifference. Maybe he could make the Knight understand…

"But…" He said feebly, extending a weak arm to the Caped Crusader

"Enough." The Batman stated boldly. Batman backed from the extended arm and turned around to his station at the computer terminal. A dramatic swish of robes hinted to the Joker that the discussion was ending soon. "I don't want to talk about it anymore. Not in your state."

'In my state…?" Joker sneered. His face contorted into one of bitterness. He didn't like to be ignored like this.

"So here you go, Batsy boy running away from your problems again, like always!" He yelled back, making the Dark Knight stop dead in his tracks, lassoing his attention. He was only a few steps away from the hibernating monitor."What are you running from now?"

"I'm not running away, Joker. I'm just tired of your immature little rants." Batman snapped. "You're a smart man, otherwise you wouldn't be such a genius at making your little potions. Did you ever think that maybe I'm just tired and that I just don't want to deal with it right now?" The thunderous murmur of his voice barely graced the Ace of Knave's ears. He felt cheated, as if he was not being taken seriously enough.

"I didn't say that you had to kill him, Batman. Don't think I'm stupid. It just sounded like you didn't put up much of a fight..." The pale skinned man retorted. The Batman huffed and stomped back to the harlequin's direction, creating a hot booming shadow over him.

"And you think I don't?! I let him have this little round because that's all he's going to have, and you know what? I still don't feel clean! It's something I will always carry with me! Do you have any idea how many times that has happened before your little tryst?" He spat flecks of spit into the Prince's face. His throat was parched, and he swallowed his guilt.

"Okay, so you are giving the little asshole a little reel before you snag him, I get it, and I can hear you. You don't have to yell at me, you know?" Joker said meekly. Hearing that dark, unforgiving voice again was pure punishment.

"I'm not yelling! I'm talking to you this way because you need to stop acting like a child!" He said a little louder. Joker felt the boom inside of him. It was tearing him apart.

"I'm not!!" Joker cried.

"Yes, you are. Listen to yourself!"

"No, I'm not." The Joker huffed indignantly as he stood squarely with both his hands resting over his hips.

"Yes."

"No, stop it!"

"Then quit acting like one, and I will!" Batman heaved. A flutter of squeaks and flap of wings warned him to stop. He stepped back and took a few measured breaths. Yelling never helped anything. He was tired, hungry, and in dire need of catching up. He also needed to tend to a cut on the back of his right shin. He had enough.

Joker, on the other hand, had backed off several steps. This lashing of words was not what he was expecting. He never wanted to start an argument. It was just that he was angry, like he had been angry many times before. Inside of him, he felt betrayed, abandoned, and all by himself in a world where even the Bat was pushing him aside. Maybe he was acting like a child, but he would not stand to be tossed aside casually.

"Just forget it," was all he muttered before he turned around, wanting to hide the guilt that grew on his face.

Joker ran his hands over his eyes. He was tired and all this had gone wrong. This isn't what he meant. He was angry, and again he had let the anger burning inside him take the best of him. The last thing he wanted was to yell at the man who had offered him his protection, and had shared with him his inner most secrets. No, that was the last thing on his mind, and here he was out of words, out of excuses, and feeling smaller than an amoeba. Why did all end up in this mess? There was a miscommunication, otherwise Bruce wouldn't have gotten this way. Was it the way he said it? The way it came out? How stupid it was for him to be so selfish! How immature and shallow!

"I'm sorry," Bruce croaked as he stood over the Joker, who had his face in his hands. "Jack..."

Joker caught himself at the sound of his name. It rang an emotional bell. The sweet tender voice attached to it made his insides jump. It had been a long time since anyone had called him that, and that was the reason why it still hurt to hear it. Not even Harley had used it because she never cared for his beginnings, aside from the usual menu of fledgling psychopaths. If it was a painful block, it had a secret story to tell, otherwise it wouldn't have hurt. He could still hear her voice, her warm smile. Someone actually cared for him, loved him even, and not because of his infamy.

Joker shook himself out of his state.

"Jack? Joker?"

"Ohhhh, got a little lost there for a moment," Joker said, rubbing his temples and wiping his greener than grass head of hair back.

"You okay?" Batman said gently, holding the Joker's chin. The Prince nodded.

"Mmmm hmmmm," he smiled. "Just had a little brain fart is all...," he said shyly.

"Are you sure, I can do a CATSCAN here if you'd like--"

"NO! Doogie Houser, get away! "Joker replied as he pried away Batman's hands from his shoulder. "No more machines! They give me nightmares..."

"That bad at Arkham, right?" The Dark Knight prodded, wanting to make things a little lighter. He punched himself for sounding a little bit like Clark.

"Let's just say that the electroshock therapy appointments had been tensing two days before they were even done. The levels they gave Croc was more than enough to serve up some barbecues on a Fourth of July picnic," Joker said with a dull voice.

No matter how many times he built up a stomach for it, there still were things that tested his tolerance. Being treated like animals was not something he advocated on the worst of the worst. Not even they deserved such harsh treatment for the sake of answering a few questions, because not everything needed an answer. Some things just were. Some things do not need a rational, logical blueprint, some things were more intuitive. They were out of reach. They were things you had to feel. Just because it's not there, doesn't mean it's not real. His parents have been gone over twenty years, but the pain is still very much real. Some things were more spiritual. They just didn't need rules because they had their own set all along. It's a lot more complex than just like traveling to another country to learn their ways. It was more intricate than plane geometry.

"Sounds like Jeremiah is not the only one that needs to change his policies," Batman said placidly.

"Tell me about it, the man won't even let us read a good book from the library. Hardbacks especially. Paper cuts 'n stuff like that. They don't want a reason to help us."

Batman replayed the moments when he visited Arkham Asylum. He knew that not everything was as clean as it appeared, but he couldn't imagine what he had just heard. Under the table abuse was just added to the list of offenses. Maybe that lawyer was right all along...

"Hey, but cheer up, cupcakes…besides that it rates great as a vacationing destination, it has a great workout area, I'm sure you'd like that!" Joker said out of the blue, looking at Batman from an angle. He wanted to wake the Knight from his depressed state. He wanted those blue eyes to glow back at him at full intensity. The Knight just looked at him, and he couldn't contain a subtle smile. The Detective looked so beautiful when he smiled, it made Joker smile back.

The Jester quickly regained a serious composure, if that was possible in a man with a carved smile on his face. "Um, you mentioned earlier that you didn't want to hurt anyone anymore..."

"Not use blind force if that's what you mean." It didn't help. Muscle could do so much.

"Well, yes that's true, but I could tell there was something different. About… us..." Joker sighed, hoping that the Batman would figure out the rest.

"Well, I won't hit you anymore..." the vigilante stated. It was little, but it was a start.

"No, not that silly little Bat. I should have rephrased this more carefully, I meant about you."

Bruce gulped. He hadn't the slightest idea what was in the Joker's mind. Everything was going so fast that he did not look back at the minor details.

"You're a little less...paranoid..."

"Is that a good thing or bad?" The detective inquired.

"No, no, I'm quite welcome to the change. Not exactly a good way to spend the night breaking bones in the middle of it all, but it is a nice surprise..." The Joker said gingerly.

"Enjoy it while you can..." Bruce pushed the Joker to the side. He had to get to work. It was dallying like this that slowed him down and in turn hurt him and the Joker. He had to get back into the cycle

"Don't feed me that hokey that you can turn it off and on like a light switch. I may be crazy but not stupid." Joker said pessimistically.

"You're right I do feel a little different," Bruce stressed. "But don't expect to see me bake you clown cookies and wear bunny slippers!"

"And why not? You'll look so pretty in Sponge Bob jammies and green bunny slippers!" The harlequin hooted. "And since black matches everything, you can still wear your cowl to bed if you want…"

The Knight gave Joker a hateful look, but the Caliph of Clowns noted a hint of a smile from under the cowl.

"OK, no more fashion tips from me…but_…_ how was it different?! What changed?" Joker said to the midnight black robes when he saw that He had turned around. "Why is it different than when you hit me earlier?" The Prince glossed over, hoping for any sign that the Bat would stop to reconsider. The Clown Prince hated silence, and Batman's eternal hush was torture to his soul. Ignorance, apathy, that's what he got before, and he couldn't afford to lose track of it. Not now.

"I've done some rethinking," the Knight replied. "I've had something within me open my eyes," he said in the all too familiar dark whisper.

"Ha! An epiphany….I've had some of those…."

"I doubt this is anything like yours," Batman shot back.

"And what exactly triggered that thought, may I ask, hmmmm? Did a little bird get on your shoulder and chirp?" The Prince said curiously, slowly walking towards that tall, shady outline that breathed sheer vengeance. The Caliph of Clowns was wary, and kept a small distance between them_._ He was breathing tensely. Even though he hadn't burned all his bridges, it was better to address the communication issue with great care, because another lash of words from the Dark Knight and it could be the last. He crossed his arms unsympathetically, waiting for further exchange.

"A lot of things," Bruce said dimly. He turned his attention to the giant screen, and tapped a few keys to bring his database to life. Investigations were like mind exercises. Emotional connection was something that, he had to admit, had not quite mastered as he would have liked. Not even a stint in Qu'rac had prepared him for this.

"Like…..?" Joker ushered him on,coming a few inches closer_, _waiting for anything further out of the Bat's mouth. Any hint of promise, of acceptance. He just didn't want to be discarded and brushed off again, something which was routine in Arkham.

Bruce faced the Clown Prince with cold dead eyes. His mind was in a black state. He heard the words, yet he couldn't reply. Everything was so vague. He was so full of complexity and intricacies, that he didn't know where to start, or if he could bear to share the inner workings of his core. He was a linear, logical creature of thinking and statistical facts. Sentiments had no room in the deep, dark chamber of his mind. That was the Batman, the Creature of the Night, the Dark Detective

In contrast_,_ Joker was a fluid, intuitive essence that tried his straight path. Challenging and contradicting everything he had known. Lately, some of these tools had helped him breath. They released long withheld passions that were subjugated for a reason. Reason was a neat undercurrent to justify an act. It was like a sword that would reap upon any desire. Slavery had a reason to exist once, as did mass genocide. Did that make things right? Was reason the answer for all things when ethics could do a better job?

Batman couldn't answer the question. He pulled back the cowl, and savored the crisp air when it went past his nose.

Joker's face went soft when he caught the peachy tones of Batman's jaw and whole face. He anticipated the proceeding moments with raw caution.

"Internal things," The Knight said brusquely. "Things that I have to figure out for myself..." His voice softened to a more human-like tone, while still retaining a bold undercurrent. The Prince turned away to the side, upset that he was cheated out of actual communication for the sake of a few vague words.

"Here we go again...you are leaving me out of the game, Bats. I'm starting to feel like Michael Jordan in crutches. He has to attend the games, but can only watch from the bench." The Jester crossed an arm over his chest and with the other, scratched the back of his head absentmindedly. He tried to smile, but it was unsuccessful. He didn't know how he could overcome this feeling of neglect.

"You promise me a garden and all I get are weeds," Joker answered sharply. "Why do I even bother?" He sighed and touched the bridge of his nose.

"Because you like treading on dangerous territory and look where it's gotten you. I don't want you hurting yourself anymore," Bruce replied. Even without the cowl, he managed to convey complete command of his surroundings. If anything, it made him even more intimidating because he wasn't pumped full of superpowers. Rather, he was just a man who had a bad day or two. Just a man. Perhaps that was what was so dangerous.

"I've gotten hurt lots of times before, darling. You just never noticed." Joker snapped, looking dubiously at the Knight. "And now that you have, you keep me at the sidelines. Well, sweet cakes, I don't know about you, but I am getting tired of this little game." The Dark Knight counteracted the Prince when he stood over him, sizing him down with his looming silhouette. The Caliph of Clowns barely treaded an inch, still staring upwards at the human face of the Batman.

"You think I like doing this on purpose?" Bruce spat. "You think I enjoy this endless game of cat and mouse when I can't figure out why Riddler and Scarecrow are out terrorizing others?!"

"Would you stop talking about those two? Geez, how can you be so blind Mr. Wayne? I'm talking about you. About me_._ Must you play with my emotions like that?" The Joker purred.

"I told you, this is something private and I'd rather not discuss this further." Bruce added finally, while still keeping an eye on the frown on the Joker's face. Again, he lost touch. Logically, one would just let it go, but that wasn't the Joker. He wasn't about to let go so quickly. Not now. It wasn't enough to keep him pacified. What a cheap shot!

"Oh go on! Be Mr. Big Shot Who is Too Macho to Face His Own Feelings! Tell you what, darling! I'll leave you alone, right after I get out of your little playpen. Look me up by the bridge overlooking the Dixon River next time you're in town! I'll be sure to give you a memento of my affection!" Joker hissed. Acidic green eyes glared at the blue ones above him.

"I know you won't do that," Batman said calmly, acting as if Joker's little tiff hadn't transpired at all.

"Oh? What makes you think I won't?I've done worse. Just look at my resume." Joker responded raptly. He grasped the silky fabric of his purple robe tighter, challenging the other man.

"One, you don't know where we are, so even if you did find your way out, there's a good chance the police would find you. Two, you're in grave health and the weather outside will not help you at all, and finally, you are too preoccupied to actually leave because you have gotten used to Arkham."

The Joker huffed and circled around the Dark Knight, surveying him like a hungry hawk.

"What? You think that the fact that this little hideout is in the middle of nowhere, or the weather is a little stormy out there is going to stop me? You should know me better than that, Bruce." Joker said with the tone of his voice rising rapidly. His temper had always been his downfall, and this time it was spiraling quickly downhill.

"That's why I know you will not leave."

"I always land on my feet, in case you haven't noticed. I will be up and running in no time. So until you've shown me that you've grown an inch, you can come and fetch me!" Joker yelled. He stood in front of the Batman, wondering if he was true to his word, aside from what had grown between them these past few days. If that was indeed true, why didn't he admit it?

"I also forgot to mention. Your hench-gal seems to have shacked up with her friend. So if you want Harley Quinn's help, good luck with that." Bruce said in a voice laced with sarcasm. The Prince would have none of it. He let out a low growl as he turned around, and paced a few feet away.

"And you have to rub Harley in my face too?" Joker was now furious and almost screaming at the top of his lungs. "I was the Joker before Harley, and I will still be the Joker after her. And don't think I don't know what you're trying to do, Mr. Bat…"

"And what is it that I want to do, Joker?"

"You're trying to divert the subject of our conversation! It's all about you and me…Not Harley…Not Nygma…Not Crane. YOU. AND. ME." Joker hissed like an angry cat. He wanted to protect his territory, but his patience wore thin with all these intruders entering.

"And I said I didn't want to discuss that at this moment."

"FINE! If that is the way you like it. You want me to leave?Then just give me the word," The Prince said dryly, looking away from the Dark Knight. He was seething with anger at his chronic apathy_. _"I don't have to stay if I'm not wanted. I could be doing more important things…" Joker said meekly, barely acknowledging the uncowled Batman with a subtle sneer.

"Like...?" The vigilante said simply. His detective side was never at rest, even out of costume.

"Discover the reason why slice of bread always fall buttered side down, or why Bats are reluctant to open up their hearts to Clowns…I don't know. Anything beats staying here and feel ignored…"

There. He had let it out. Unconsciously he had expressed his greatest fear, and the thing he yearned most. Joker felt exposed, but also free, like he had opened the pop-up valve in a pressure cooker and all the steam had escaped. He felt as light as a feather, and that made him feel good. Why did Batman have to be so hard on him? Clowns had feelings too, didn't they? They cry too when the performance called for it, and when the curtain was down. But this wasn't an act. This was the real deal.

"I'm only telling you your options should you choose to leave. You're free to go if you wish, but I don't think that would be the wisest choice. Personally, I think you should be nursed back to health before you get to go out and play." Batman said stonily. There was no hint of sentiment in his words, which is what tried the Clown Prince. It was all so programmatic and robot-like. He wanted to believe it was done out of habit.

And all those words the Jester had expressed, exposing his feelings and his fears, didn't seem to follow the tune to the Dark Knight's linear dance. Didn't the Bat hear a word he had said? There was not much more he could take.

"Only because you want to atone for your sins," The Clown Prince leered, apparently tired of looking for any nuance of change. The Batman dared not answer the Joker's plea, because he didn't have an answer to it. Not a clear one, at least. Part of it was true, but it didn't grasp wholly his whole reason for keeping the Joker at close range. Joker had grown to become a close companion rather than a friend. Not quite lover, but a very close companion.

"Now, that's not quite the truth-" Bruce began, before he was cut off by the shriek from the Clown.

"Then why don't you tell me what it is instead of flowering it up and masking your own insecurities! If you're ashamed of me, don't hesitate to tell me! How do you think I feel?!" The Joker screamed. His blood was boiling at the sudden surge of energy which was ready to burst through his lithe body.

"I am not ashamed of you, Jack." Bruce said gently.

"Then why do you keep pushing me away? This is so…so confusing..." The Joker looked morosely. He looked away from the Batman, wanting to hide away the anger that threatened to turn into tears. For Joker, this was a greater mystery than the one involving Nygma and Crane.

"Because that's my problem." The playboy responded softly. He ran a hand down the pale white face of the Clown Prince. "That's something that I have to accept." Hot, gloved hands caressed the cheek of the Joker.

"Bruce…no…" Joker said softly, almost melting at the Crusader's touch. The Prince's eyes closed at the petting and his mouth opened slowly, letting him breath as his respiration was suspended in disbelief. Joker suddenly felt hot, and his breathing quickened. Soft pulsating warmth groped at his body. His nerves cracked with electrical impulses before his brain snapped into the present.

He then grabbed Bruce's gauntleted hand. He toyed with it before pushing it back. You are too good at this Wayne. A temptation to make a crack subsided. He couldn't afford to be acidic.

"Now, now. Don't think you're little charms are going to work on me Mr. Wayne..." Joker said demurely. He pressed a thin palm to his face to hide his newly flushed face.

"Well, at least I tried," Bruce smiled.

"I thought Batman didn't make funnies," Joker said softly, standing over his close companion and studying him with immense curiosity.

"Batman doesn't, but Bruce Wayne can crack a few," the playboy responded to the quirk.

"Really? And has Bruce Wayne ever been in love?" Joker counteracted with a sinful smile forming on his face, looking triumphantly. "I seem to recall that Batman didn't..."

Bruce gulped at the jab, knowing that he couldn't get out of this one, and even if he could, he would be cheating himself of a clean conscience. His stomach tightened and contracted as he formed the next sentences in his mind. Yes, Bruce Wayne has had many a love affair, but exactly how many touched his soul as deeply as Joker? Even when she has a heart of gold, Selina is more of a thrill seeking fellow creature of the night who tempts his senses more than his own heart. Talia, when she wasn't being used by her father, pushed him even when things were bleak. After the quake, she forsook attachment so that he could continue his mission. But even then, she is always her father's daughter, and romance could not make amends to opposing forces.

"I have, on some occasions..." Bruce began, wanting to break the ice and for once, trying to reach out without looking like an insecure preteen.

"So, then what happened?" Joker crisscrossed his fingers. "Kitty scratch you one too many times? Careful with those claws, Brucie…" The Jester finished his sentenced, meowing like a spiteful feline_._

Bruce sighed heavily, not believing that he was disclosing such private information to his ex arch-nemesis.

"We've had our differences. We just didn't connect in the long run. Selina was just... selfish at times. Talia could never part from her father, and when she finally did, it was too late."

"Oohh, and what about that blonde? The cute one. You remember her, no?" Joker chirped.

"Sasha was perhaps the unluckiest one, by far. She was my bodyguard, but due to my schedule, I was being selfish and I just pushed her away. I have never forgiven myself since, because I saw her do it."

He kicked himself, knowing that he was still occasionally nostalgic for Vesper or Sasha's touch. He could still smell each women's distinctive perfume, the sound of her voice, the feel of her lips when they were pressed against his. The cold current pierced at his spine, savoring the memory as if it were yesterday. He hadn't felt this way since he and the Joker exchanged last night.

The Prince looked on compassionately, savoring the chit chat immensely. He couldn't help but wonder where he was on that scale, but decided it was best to wait until Bruce disclosed as much as he could. He wanted to ride the bull, but not buck it just yet.

"I guess, I could never fill the gap that my parents created," Bruce said finally. Joker's eyes widened, both as an obvious acknowledgment to Bruce's plight and as understanding. So, that was Batman's one bad day.

"I can still smell the gunpowder and hear the pearls falling to the hard, cold ground. My mother screaming, I'll never forget it." Bruce stared up blankly overhead, not wanting to show any glint of feeling that swelled in his eyes as he recalled that stormy night when his mother witnessed her son become the dark embodiment of justice. "My father was a respected doctor. The man was a wizard at saving lives, but no one could save him," he said morosely. He looked back into Joker's forest colored eyes, noting their inviting and soft presence. They offered warmth, penance.

Joker bit his lip. For once, he was at a loss for words, only to manage saying:

"I'm… sorry..." Ruby red lips parted, leaning in close.

Bruce patted the patch of grassy hair, petting it like a cat. He could feel the hot breathing coming out of Joker's ruby red lips. He deserved worse. He hated himself for lying to himself at the expense of others to preserve his ego. It was unforgiving. He still felt like a frightened child in the midst of peril. Over and over he played that tape in his head, wondering what if things were different. If they didn't change, things would be the way they are because there would be no Batman to protect Gotham. His thought processes were put to rest when he felt warm lips press against his, tugging at his insecurity, trying to make him forget at the heavy burden he carried in his being. They said, 'Hurt no more, you are loved', which they did.

Immediately, he moved his head forward, savoring the kiss. Joker reached up and wrapped his thin arms across Batman's neck, pressing his white hands onto Bruce's face, bringing him closer. Bruce reciprocated when he reached around Joker's back and added pressure to his back, making his thin body come closer to his. Hot breathy gasps escaped from the Joker's mouth, begging for more. Bruce held his arm firmly, locking the Joker into place, but he didn't stop there. As their kiss deepened into a passionate expression of their lust, Bruce's hand traveled from the bottom of Joker's back to the top of his thigh. The Clown Prince pressed himself closer to let Bruce grope all he wanted. The Joker's heart raced, and it was becoming more and more difficult for him to keep in place. His arms and hands clasped hard against Batman's back as he leaned back, exposing a long swan-like neck. Bruce channeled his attention towards the lean neck, sucking and biting gently, sending the clown into waves of euphoria. The Batman's low growls met with Joker's soft moans. It wasn't until Bruce's hands traveled to the top of Joker's legs to lift and cloth and expose his skin, did the Clown Prince push him back, feeling shame and disgust. The kiss broke off, leaving them both cold. The Joker turned around and hugged himself, looking ashamed that he had tried the forbidden fruit.

Bruce rewound what had just occurred. He was kissing the Joker, again. His full consciousness and being were invested. There were no secrets, and there was no shame. He did it because he was being loved, and because he wanted it to. The only shame there was not realizing it beforehand. He covered it up with reason. That was the sin. Joker pushing him away did not fit into the equation. It was so sudden. He seemed upset about something, almost as if it triggered an old memory. He wanted it so bad, and to push it away like a cold meal gone badly was so unlike him.

"Joker...?"

A dark hoarse voice graced the Prince's ears.

"Oh, darling I've been cheating you..." Joker said darkly, the secret was boiling up again, threatening to tear him up inside. It was a burden, a rotten Easter egg he had to get rid of. His fingernails dug into his sensitive skin.

"What is it? Is there something you want to tell me?" Bruce prodded on.

"I've been such a fool. Ohhhhh, please forgive me." Joker begged.

"What is it, Jack?" Batman shook him.

"I ask so much of you, and here I am, hiding things. God, you must think I'm stupid," Joker snapped, barely missing Bruce's arm. He walked a few paces before he stopped.

"Never mind that. Is there something you want to tell me?" Batman demanded. Joker looked back at him, smiling faintly. The Knight went over the steps meticulously. Joker only reacted to his name because of something attached to it. It was something part of his past, before he became who was now. It was something that was very delicate for him, and the detective had to approach it with meticulous precision.

"Joker..."

The mountebank barely moved at the sound of his moniker.

"...was there someone before...?" Batman began slowly. It was like walking on eggshells. He wondered if this is what was troubling his friend. His questions were immediately answered when the Prince shifted, facing him with gentle expression.

"I was married once," Joker stated. "A long time ago…" The last words were like a hook, reeling back a memory that had been relayed to the dark recesses of the brain. A memory that most of the time had remained dormant in the inner core of his mind, but was still irremediably attached to his life by a thin, almost invisible, line.

The words shook the Batman's world. He didn't know of words, or sentences he could use now. The revelation was shocking: his worst enemy had a family just as he once had. Another parallelism, another similarity. These two lives shared more in common than meet the eye.

"This was before Harley tried to dance her way in, before you even..." Joker refuted. It was a burden being lifted off his shoulders. Never had he felt so welcomed and loved like he did with Batman as he did with her. Jeannie, dear sweet Jeannie. The Dark Knight reached out and petted the jester.

"Sorry about your loss," Batman said gently, offering solace. They both connected through loss.

"Baby bottle heater did it. We were about to get evicted. I had to do something, Batman. I met with the wrong people...and…"

Red Hood.

"Easy," Bruce said. He placed both hands on the clown's shoulders, keeping him in place.

"It's been so long..." Joker touched the bridge of his nose. "But she's still there…in the back of my head…"

"You mentioned Harley," Batman prodded on, claiming the Joker's face upon the words.

"Yes, and your point is?" Joker pushed on letting out a snort and wanting to know why on Earth Batman would care about the little leech.

"Was she important to you? You wanted to communicate, here I am. I want to know where I am on that scale" Batman stated with a soft smile.

The Prince gleamed. Joker before he thought a bit before answering. A hot dryness in his throat made it difficult to form and words, and his mind was racing all over the place as buried memories rose up into his brain, making him feel unstable. He finally shook his head, and began with a simple nod.

"Harley was my hench gal. She was more of a mutant spawn who needed a little spanking every once in awhile. She loved me more for my notoriety. My fame_. _I wanted her by my side, because maybe one day she would become handy and grab a bullet for me. Oh, and I forgot, she always laughed at my jokes," The Prince said somberly. "But really, how can it be when they live off the air you breathe?" Joker begged. "Please!"

Batman brought the Clown Prince closer to himself, knowing full well the pain of misfortune. It was their connection. They finally understood each other. The Dark Knight shushed the sobbing Clown Prince. He kissed the mass of green hair, which was tickling his cheek. Was it possible that Harley Quinn was muscling her way into Joker's heart by usurping Jeannie? It didn't justify him hitting her, but it did make a lot of sense. He was protecting something that was obviously very important to him, but she treaded over that line. Whether she was ignorant, selfish or stupid… didn't matter now. It didn't matter anymore. It would be awhile before they would unlock and continue with the journey that lay ahead. This was one pit stop out of many more to come.

Joker swallowed his pride, letting himself get lost in the immense warmth and generosity of the Batman, who acted as a sort of blanket against the cold interiors of the bat cave. Joker's hands reached up from the top of the yellow utility belt to the shoulder blades of the man who had nurtured him, massaging the muscle bound frame as he did. He was studying the chiseled build, amazed and its detailed work. Compared to his smaller, skinny frame, it was as if he was chiseled by the gods. Bruce felt the petite, feminine frame brush against his.

"You probably hate my guts," Joker cooed from below, not facing the Dark Detective.

"I do not. Why do you keep saying that?" Bruce began by brushing the field of green, barely noting the concave of snow white skin under his black gloved hand.

"I don't know. I feel like such a fool for doing this to you…" Joker pleaded, nuzzling Bruce's chest, savoring the moment. Part of him felt greedy and yet a side of him said, 'Don't say anything just be grateful', and yet he couldn't help feeling like such a failure for calling the kettle black. He couldn't risk losing Bruce's trust again. The cinders weren't completely burnt, but there was no reason to go back and start over, which is what he wanted in the first place, and Bruce accepted. Bruce saw him for what he was, and he opened up. There were no more secrets because the one that was eating him up was out in the open. Perhaps he was feeling guilty because he felt like he was cheating on Jeannie. No, that couldn't be it. Jeannie had been dead for years. What he felt with Bruce was different with only a string of similarity. With Bruce, he felt whole again. Their relationship had come full circle.

Bruce patted the sleek jungle green hair by his chin, surveying its soft luster as a result from the bath the night before. He smelled good too, like flowers and mint.

"If you keep that up, I'm going to leave you," Bruce said, smiling gently while looking down at the Joker. The Prince gazed back up at the playboy, greeting the smiling Bat with a gentle smile of his own.

_Whew! I hope you enjoyed that! I'd love to hear a piece of your mind. Please pardon the burp the last time. I just had to shoot down the last one to put it out of its misery and dip it in the Lazarus Pit. Now it's all brand new and green. If you'd like, please check out our gallery The Archive of Love on my livejournal webpage. It's on my profile under galleries, ready for you to click and enjoy! It's open to the public, but for limited time only!_

_Hugs, MM_


	23. Those Wonderful Toys

**Edited: June 7th 2008**

Overall plot: Two arch enemies take a long hard look at one another and discover some crucial secrets and peel back layers.

Chapter synopsis: Fun in the Batcave!

Pairing: Batman/Joker

Era/setting: Post crisis 1985

Feedback: Please. I love hearing my reader's thoughts.

Genre: Romance, psychological, drama, noir, action

Rating: R

Archive: Yes, please. Just ask me.

Recommended readings: Throwaway Card, The Game We Play, Path of the Jester.

This will be part flashback/part exposition. Now, if I could only hire Brian Bolland to craft my work, I'd be the happiest person on Earth!

_She touched the tape and set it to play. Even though she represented him, Scarecrow's lawyer was always inspected before meeting with her client. The last thing this case needed was Richard Ramirez syndrome, and so, they watched her like a hawk. They barely missed the tiny camera implanted on a pocket on the side of her purse. Working here almost seemed like a joke, she imagined. She was allowed only one hour a week of unsupervised visits with her client, and she made sure court orders made it so. _

_No breath mints, perfume, or an even a letter. She was clean. It was too easy. Pathetic fools. Commitment didn't require the physical strain and drama to get a stamp of approval. All it took was a connection, a spiritual component that transcended the mere pleasure of the flesh that so many ill, sick women want from their captors in Black Gate or Alcatraz. Jonathan Crane transcended all of that. Her client's brilliance, charm and master craft at intimidation were all the only aphrodisiacs she would ever need. She offered him a small cup of plain yogurt. His haggard appearance paid her no mind. Rather, she merely wanted him to get his nutrients, to feed that brilliant brain of his. _

"_Good afternoon, doctor," the professor said darkly. He folded his hands and leaned in close. He wanted a good look at the woman representing him. _

"_Good afternoon, professor," she said with a mousy click. She had wiped a bead of sweat from her brow, which had come about from the lights buzzing overhead. _

"_Sssshhhhhhhh, please doctor, it's Jonathan. We're all friends here, aren't we?" Crane replied, grimacing gently at the sight beforehand. Her shakiness provided him a sort of sick, sadistic pleasure to him, rather than her natural beauty. She wore a form fitting white button up blouse and a pencil skirt, showing off nicely shaped legs. There were no unsightly bumps on her. They didn't do anything on the chained sociopath, whose heart raced as the scent of the sweet perfume of her sweat invaded his nostrils, provided by the light and something else entirely. _

"_Yes, of course," she continued. She opened the briefcase and filed through a mountain of paperwork from various sources. One had the Supreme Court of Appeals stamp. _

"_We're you treated courteously by my….connections? Did they offer you food? Water?" Scarecrow began. He leaned back, camouflaging himself in the shadows. Even a burlap sack could hide so much. Those cold, dead eyes pierced at the lawyer._

"_Yes. Yes, they did." _

"_Are you so sure? I'm not certain I believe you, doctor, because if it comes to my knowledge that you received less than what was required, someone will be scrubbing their intestine residue from the pipes." _

_Elena Romero shifted, staring at her client. It was as if he picked up the subtle difference in heart rate from moments earlier. _

"_Yes, everything went fine... Jonathan." She had tried to convince himself to turn himself over, so that the court would play in their favor and lower his sentence from previous crimes, citing gross negligence and a faulty system, but he insisted on this 'plan' that had yet to take place. _

"_Si no lansa, no avansa, doctor," The professor clasped his bone thin hands together. "You should know that by now, my dear. All I ask is that you keep that mask on your pretty face for a little longer."_

"_I am not here for fame, doctor. I am here to help you-!" She protested. Her brown eyes were desperate, looking for any nuance of acknowledgment from the emaciated but staunch minded Scarecrow. _

"_Really? No sane person would really want to represent me, doctor….." Crane lowered his voice, which illuminated his darker persona, even out of costume. _

"_I only want the best for you, mi amor…." She purred, reaching out to the cold dead hand. _

"_All in due time, my dear," he responded. _

_(Women, they are such fools for any hint of change, too much estrogen in the brain. You bat an eyelash and they fall over each other for you. They are like children. You manipulate their feelings, their desires, and only then can you break their rational thought, which is like jelly at this point)_

_Jonathan Crane smiled vaguely at the dark skinned woman, mostly because of his ability to wrap her around his thin finger than actually accepting her. She was a go between, nothing more. Ah, well, it didn't hurt to give the dog a bone once in awhile. _

"_Have you received my present?" Crane crooned. _

"_I did," Romero aptly responded. It wasn't so much a present, actually. Instead, it was a set of directions and a list of menial things with addresses all over the city and county that she had to pass onto a third party. She dared not to look at them all the time, but she had seen a couple of addresses. They looked like menial tasks with code names. To give him credit, he did give her a rose on two occasions. It was pink, like her childhood rosary. _

"_Good. Did you make sure it was delivered to the right party?" The thin man pressed on. He smelled of administered drugs and alcohol. _

"_Yes, a woman." She replied. She took a sip of water from a bottle, soaking her parched throat. "She didn't give me a name…."_

"_Perfectly acceptable. Sal Laur prefers to conduct his affairs in the most clandestine of ways. I am personally familiar with his work." Jonathan Crane croaked. A small sinister smile formed on his gaunt face. "He is a….close friend of mind, he gets around a lot." _

_He knew more than he talked. Romero knew she was in hot water when she took the oath to represent one of Arkham's Finest. Truth be told, there was an element of thrill to be involved with an infamous name, even a sexual one, she had to admit. She was playing Devil's Advocate and everyone knew that, so was there any reason to be ashamed if she had nothing to hide? The rules had changed, however, when she entered uncharted waters. She wanted to dismiss it as insane ramblings from a fallen man, a psychosis come about from all the abuse Arkham is notorious for. She, nevertheless, would stick to her guns and do as her precious professor asked. _

"_What does he do?" She began meekly, trying to bridge the matter to a more private one. _

"_I'm afraid I can't go into that detail at the moment. All I ask is that you keep this matter under wraps, my pet." _

_She was scared, she had to admit, but it was not because she was at close range with a 'madman'. It was because she was cornered, like she was involved in a blind game of chess. _

"_Yogurt, doctor?" Professor Crane offered, pushing the carton to her direction. _

"_No, thank you." She said flatly, like she was discovering a death trap in this dangerous dance and holding her breath for the next move. _

"_You will then keep contact with Laur's assistant. You are not to look into those files, understand?" _

_Romero barked, "This is madness! I did this so that I could reach out to you!" _

_Crane let out a low chuckle. _

"_Oh, you will find things are far more complex than what they real are, my doctor. It's only madness if it doesn't have a point, if it doesn't yield anything. You find out in this case, that it does…." _

"_Very well. Oh, and doctor, one more thing. Do you want to be remembered as the lawyer who bailed on a high profile case and failed to save a 'fallen angel', as you aptly put it?" Crane said with a voice laced with dark sarcasm and bitterness. "Be nice to Miss Tia, and keep that mask on that pretty face…." He leaned forward, rattling his shackles as he stood when he heard the guard approach and open the door. _

_On that note, the tape went blank. _

Bruce scribbled down the last bit of detail on a scrap of parchment. They were squiggled and criss-crossed. These were new leads and a new player had entered into this complex and sick game. Batman made a cross reference for a Sal Laur but nothing turned up, not even so much as a wikipedia entry. In an earlier tape, there was a reference to a GH Laur, but Gerhardt Einrich Laur was in Holstein and specialized in selling comicbooks. He tried Sal GH Laur and came up with something promising. The only time the name showed up in bold was as a shareholder in both Waynetech and Lexcorp stock. He covered his tracks well, Batman thought. No one that big would be so mysterious unless there were some under the table deals involved, and if that was the case, who was in on the deal? And if so, the question begs why. The Dark Knight was stumped. The next best thing was that it was a codename. Who would be rich enough to fund this entire scheme that would involve his entire list of enemies? Moreover to the point, who would be rich enough to fund this entire scheme that involved his entire list of enemies AND had a vendetta against the Joker? He pulled up a list of possible suspects and ran them off one by one, trying to find that string that tied everything together in this intricate web.

Penguin? Luthor? Rupert Thorne even?

Penguin does have the resources to pull off something like this, but it would prove to be a fatal move if he was to cross the Joker, and he knew that. If he did get his hands dirty, it wouldn't be a good move for his so called clean image, as difficult as that sounded. On the other hand, it would prove to be a lucrative business, but the bottom line was, Oswald would be too much of a coward to pull it off. Someone else would pull the strings, while

He would only provide the muscle, so he was out. Oswald isn't stupid enough to go after the Joker, much less by himself.

Luthor was another good possibility, but what would he gain from going after the Joker and have the employ of Arkham's less than finest? There was nothing charitable he could hide behind that would act as some sort of pay off for him. Furthermore, Bruce found that Luthor had his hands tied at some international conference in Luxemburg. Basically, he didn't have the time to go between a basic business deal to outsource some Lexcorp earnings and communicate with the Scarecrow. He would consider it below him to stoop to that level too.

Next, he pulled up a file on crime boss, Rupert Thorne, only to find that those tabs would be especially bleak and came up with next to nothing.

In the meantime, after isolating the properties from the gas, they yielded results. It was some sort of pure athymetranol gas, which is a component to help bolster any other chemical in the mix. Perfect for blinding or choking an attacker, or someone you didn't want near you. Zatanna used a less dangerous version. Its properties were not as widely known save for a few remote places like the Arctic Circle, Iceland, and even the outback.

Riddler might have gotten his compounds from a dip in the Lazarus Pit.

From behind him, lying on the bed, Joker on his stomach snacking on air popped popcorn and reading A Prayer for Owen Meany. People without limbs made the Joker chuckle, because the poor saps looked like abandoned tree stumps. After he finished the paragraph about the grandmother who lifted her wig to startle the town's children as a prank, Joker set the book down and turned to the direction where the Bat was hard at work. All this pampering and attention, Joker thought, he had to give something back. He glanced at the Batman who stood over hunched over the terminal, deep in thought. Maybe a rub down, Joker thought mischievously. A devilish smile formed on his face. Well, at least something to soothe those aching muscles and mind, the Prince said to himself. With that, the Joker stood up and stretched, waking his body from its previous state of rest.

Poor Bats, why did he have to be all broody and depressed like that? Joker made a mental note to rip Riddler's spleen out the first chance he got. When he was five feet away, he noticed that the Bat was still distracted with work. He hoped the buzzing from the terminal would play into his favor when he would sneak up on him. At two feet, he went in for the kill. He wrapped his arms from behind and placed long, thin hands on the eyes of the Bat, blinding him.

Batman stopped work and reached for the arms, feeling for identification.

"Guess who?" Joker giggled softly.

"Mel Blanc," Batman smiled. "The arms..."

"Nooooo, guess again..." Joker held back a titter.

"Hmmmm, Rousseu. Artist hands..." Bruce grimaced, still touching the Prince's long feminine arms.

"Well, my previous occupation did require a bit of finesse and originality," Joker gleamed, smiling beside himself.

"Joker..." Bruce began, sounding mildly irritated at the suggestion.

"Okay, okay okay. Bugs Bunny!" Joker let go and sang a couple of lines from the Rabbit of Seville. Bruce stood up. His cowl was down which revealed a handsome face with a mild five o'clock shadow.

"What's a matter? You don't like Bugs Bunny? I know!" Joker snapped his fingers. "You're more of a Scooby Doo type, all that mystery and detective work!" The Clown Prince exclaimed. "Do you know any good role playing games, minus the ones you and your pack of brats do every night?"

"Not tonight actually. I have some things that need tending too."

"Batman things or Bruce Wayne things?" Joker piqued, following the Batman to a remote part of the cave he had never been to before. It had a hollow crevice, like a closet.

"Bruce Wayne things." Bruce said before stepping into a small opening no bigger than six feet tall and four feet wide. He shut the curtain. The set of old clothes suggested it was a quick changing place in case Wayne Manor got surprise company. There was a quick exit beside the main one leading to the Grandfather Clock.

"Ah yes, that party Fatlady and Wheels mentioned." Joker pressed a finger to his lip in thought.

"Anybody big going there?"

"It's just a commemoration for Gotham's most influential people. You know who's lawyer is going to be there."

"And since Batsy can't collect clue bunnies in public, Brucie will do him the favor."

Bruce grunted from behind.

"You got it."

"Ummm, don't you ever get tired of playing the same role?" Joker leaned in, trying to listen in.

"It gets me results. That's why I have a lot of them." Bruce replied as he pulled off the last bits of the Batsuit.

Joker stood beside the cover and listened to Bruce's noises as he struggled.

"Um, need a little help?" The Prince smiled, leaning in close.

"I'm fine." Bruce replied. "Just hand me the towel by the floor."

Joker gazed at the ground by the blinds and noted a barely used beige towel lying there. He picked it up and passed it through. The temptation was too good and The Prince couldn't resist the urge to sneak a peek at Bruce. He suppressed a giggle before acting on the deed. Before he could even lift the cloth, he was greeted by a stern face.

"Don't even think about it," Bruce bellowed. He was obviously in the...he couldn't say it.

"I wasn't peeking. I just wanted to see if you need any help..." Joker smiled with a hint of guilt on his face. Bruce was forgiving but stern.

"I don't. Thank you," Bruce growled lowly.

"But you didn't mind seeing me in the buff!" Joker exclaimed, trying to get Bruce to be soft again.

"That was different," Bruce said sternly. "I respected your privacy then, and I left soon after, remember?"

"Well, what if, what if I told you that I didn't want you to leave?" Joker pined. Those desperate green eyes were seeking approval and forgiveness.

"You should have said something then, but that doesn't mean you get to invade MY privacy." Bruce huffed before shutting himself away again.

Joker leaned in, pressing his ear for any sign of struggle, or lack thereof.

Nothing. Even out of costume he still maintained that cold composure. Joker huffed and leaned back on the wall.

_Calm yourself, Jack. Don't push it. _

_**OH! But it's so frustrating! I hate being the bait in mind games!**_

_Don't be such a child. Things will come in their time. _

_**I have been waiting for too long. Why doesn't he trust me?**_

Why was he so serious? Wasn't he playful at all? He didn't mean anything by it.

Only then, did he notice the contents of the small crevice from where he was standing.

It was some sort of compartmental case. When he walked in closer, he noted a set of black lines piled neatly one after another. They weren't shards of rock. What were those things? Whatever it was, it was inanimate. Beyond the shadow, he saw that they were suits. Black Batsuits. They were neatly compiled one after another. They were the armor and came in various designs. One had a thicker coating, for protection, and the one behind it had thinner rubber, for speed. At the bottom, he noted a box that was open slightly. It was holding something, more playtime attire? Joker opened the box entirely, surveying its contents. He knew Bats was kinky about leather, but this was something else. Some of the uniforms had a blended black, while others were gray. It was the spandex that helped Batman move under the armor and provide some comfort. Customized Bat costumes, Joker chuckled. Then came the funny part. He found a smaller sized costume with a yellow symbol on its chest and matching cape. It was an old (and torn) Batgirl costume sans go go boots. He reached in to find what other goodies he could get and pulled out a full body purple leotard with small pointy ears and tail. _Kitty's cute costume and in purple! Haven't seen that one in awhile! _The temptation was too much.

"Joker, what are you doing?" Bruce bellowed from the other side.

"Oh, nothing poopsykins. Just marveling at your wonderful toys!" Joker said as he slipped on the deep fuchsia fabric over his boyish hips. A small patch of green hair puffed out from the back of his head when he angled the latex mask. Overall, it was a ridiculous sight. Catwoman's leotard drooped loosely over Joker's much thinner frame. Where Selina's womanly curves normally filled out, the clothes hung loosely onto the Joker...particularly in the thighs and buttocks region. The gloves perfectly fit, however. The curved razor sharp nails gave the Joker a sadistic pleasure. They reminded him of his own trademark look. Even if it looked like loose skin, the Clown Prince thought it looked better on him. Joker was barely reaching for a thigh high dominatrix style boot when he saw the handsome face of Bruce peer out. Out of the Batsuit and into a white polo and a pair of jeans, Bruce emerged fully changed. It was then when he caught the surprise of his life.

"What. Are You. Doing?" Bruce stifled a threatening laugh, and instead, he forced a cough.

"You don't like?" Joker gleamed, spreading his arms out before resting his hands on his hips in a perverse modeling manner. Bruce put a hand on the bridge of his nose, trying to control the looming guffaw that wanted to get out.

"Oh, no, if only she could see this..."

"You gotta admit, Bruce, it looks better on me than on your Fat Cat." The jester grabbed the tail and played with it suggestively.

"If you are planning on wearing that, what are you going to call yourself?" Bruce smiled, still staring at the sheer ridiculousness of the sight.

"What else? The Purple Panther. Far more deadly than a cat, no?" Joker proceeded with a hiss and pretended to nail an imaginary body.

"Actually, you look more like the Huntress. You lack the grace of Catwoman and Batgirl." Bruce retorted. Joker stuck out a tongue at him.

"Killjoy!" He hissed trying to pull the latex mask back carefully around those razor sharp claws. "Always spoiling the mood!" Joker said mockingly. He pulled out a broken Bat grapple, Barbara's, and aimed it in a posing sort of way.

"Look, I'm your partner! Let's get bad guys!! What is green, black and red all over?" Joker chuckled loudly. He was having a ball.

"Well hey, if I told you that the cat suit brought out your eyes, I don't think I would ever get you out!" Bruce replied gently, smiling down at the Prince who managed to pull the head mask over his shoulders. His hair was fluffier than before.

"Save the charm for the air-headed bimbos at your little soiree, Mr. Wayne." Joker chirped while running a talon over the clean-shaven human face of the vigilante. He took note of that deep and healthy tan.

"Well, can't say I tried." Bruce said, grabbing the wrist of the Clown Prince.

"Mmmm, well, you could make up for it...", Joker curled up under Bruce's arm and looked up at him, smiling teasingly.

"By what? Buying you dinner? Alfred is making your favorite," the playboy answered while wrapping a strong arm around the Joker's stomach.

"Ooooh, how bad you are Mr. Wayne! Mac and cheese, yum!" Joker made a mock gesture of shock. Bruce barely caught him as he fell back.

"Well, artery clogging cholesterol and far notwithstanding, that was a real treat for this old clown, but I had a little something else in mind," The Clown Prince twirled up and removed Bruce's arm from around him.

"What is it? I don't do impressions?"

"Who says Batman doesn't crack jokes?" Joker crooned sweetly.

"You did, actually. Remember?" The playboy replied.

"So I did, but that was then. Things are so...different now...between us..." Joker leaned in close, looking calmly up a Bruce with those hazy green eyes.

"So, what is this favor I owe you?" Bruce blushed, barely noting the Joker's passionate gaze.

"No favors, silly little bat, I was just wondering, if it wouldn't be too much trouble if I could look at your wonderful...toys," Joker smiled sheepishly.

Bruce looked at the Joker quizzically. It was a simple offer. It was very different, and it rattled him momentarily. He didn't see his tools as nothing for than what their efficient value was. They weren't photo albums. Normal people go for photo albums. He wasn't normal. Was it normal to be over analyzing this? It was a simple gesture.

"I can't take you on a spin in the Batmobile or plane at the moment, maybe when I get back-"

"No, no no, not those toys, love. I'm talking about _those_ toys!" Joker nodded overhead to the assortment of signature collections that festooned the Batcave. The T-Rex, the giant penny, Mad Hatter's Hat, a small Penguin statue, and of course, his own favorite, the giant Joker card.

Bruce recollected the misadventures in acquiring those very things. Each carried with them a story that represented a trial against an opponent. Using a trademark, they were hallmarks of trying moments in his career. They weren't exactly photo albums, but they had a meaning, a memory. For Bruce, especially with the car, it meant reconnected with something he had weaned himself off of. The years it took to ingrain itself into his head, it was desensitized in the last few days. It was like visiting a relative who passed away you didn't like. The smells were coming back, as did the images, things he wanted to forget because he didn't want to associate with them anymore. He cleared his throat after recollecting and decided to begin with the trip down memory lane, starting with the porcelain Penguin statue.

"Okay. Um, I got that Penguin display after I finished off Penguin's thugs."

"BO-RING" Joker rang and yawned.

"This was in public. It was either I beat him or I let him run his empire out in the open after the quake."

"Ooooh, now this is good!" Joker gasped. "I think Punch mentioning that. You didn't!"

"It was necessary," Bruce responded. "Desperate times called for certain measures. One by one I took them down. All muscle, no brain. It wasn't that easy, but it wasn't challenging. Penguin's lucrative empire crumbled."

"That's what happens to Pengy when he puts his beak where it doesn't belong!" Joker cackled. "How about that little doozy?" Joker nodded to the large penny. Mint. 1907.

"Two Face wanted a ransom of 22,000 in two dollar bills. He had all the bases covered, save one. He had me tied, and I couldn't cut through with my bear hands. I had a coin I saved to tear it." Joker looked less than impressed as he was adamantly waiting for his trophy.

"How did you know?" Joker gleamed.

"That's my secret," Bruce responded, smiling softly. Joker ate it up.

"Hmmmm, what about that?" Joker noted at his trophy. It was a history he didn't want to visit but was very eager to go back to, to let bygones be bygones.

"Those were during your early days. It was a bank robbery and you shot me here," Bruce gestured towards his right side. The scars were barely visible, thanks to some Neosporin, but they were still in the corners of his mind. "You almost got my kidney. If it was aimed only two inches to the right, I wouldn't be standing here."

Joker acted casually at the confession. He didn't want to believe it was him, yet he remembered holding the pistol, a .5 Sniper, quick and easy to store on the run, but deadly. The piece of flesh tore out as the burning hot pellet pierced through armor. He could still smell the iron. Joker's gut tightened. It was like an embarrassing secret had been put out, an old anecdote that he wanted to bury. But he didn't have an anecdote, he had a history. It was a history he wanted to burn, blow up, and bury.

"You also got me once with a hook and cleaned off a good chunk of skin on my arm." Batman lifted up the sleeve of his shirt to reveal a clean darkened line on the skin.

"Oh my god," Joker whispered. He kissed it, wanting to make up for the dark memory. "Oh, Bruce..."

"Don't, Joker..." Bruce spat out the words. They were crude and blunt.

Joker stared up at the Joker card enigmatically. Its devilish leer was teasing anyone within eye sight. Joker studied prop that represented him before. It was so far, yet so near.

"What do you think of, Batman, when you see this and see me now?" Joker gazed up the over-sized card and back down at the harlequin. The two were the same, except one was merely a prop, an object, while the other...was human. The Card represented the Old Joker. It wasn't mutable. It was stagnant. It spoke of chaos, anarchy, mayhem, blood lust. They were things that the old Joker found amusing. The old Joker. The caricature. The monster.

The one standing before him was a changed one. Mutable. Human. A small mischievous remnant remained, but it didn't overshadow or wash away who he was now. Jack wasn't a card or an inanimate object that symbolized psychotic dribbling. Jack was another person entirely. That didn't mean that his past defined him entirely. It was a small component of who he was, not who he was now. Unlike with Jason, which still hurt, Bruce's war as Batman was a drive for justice. It was largely, but not entirely, out of his parent's demise that he took up the mantle. What he did, he did out of his heart. In a sense, it was unfair to compare Jack to that card.

"Nothing, because I can't even begin to start," Bruce said throatily.

Joker studied the card, noting its sinister glare bear down on the both of them. He remembered when it was a part of him. It was a logo that meant one thing and one thing only. He could still feel it inside of his pocket. A sharp blade that would cut through skin, it was as much a part of him as the cyanide pies or the joy buzzer in his palm. They were used to hurt Batman, to kill him. It was an old past time, a cheap pleasure that he had outgrown. Joker didn't want any more to do with it. It was like a cold meal gone rotten. He never wanted to have another taste of it again. He felt like a child who didn't want a taste of that yucky medicine any more.

"I feel icky," Joker brooded. He turned to his captor. "I need another bath."

_**Author's note: I can't believe it's already been a year. As I'm writing this, it's Sunday, November 11, 2007. Wow. What can I say? It's been a real trip. Thank you all for making it possible. I know what some of you are thinking "Woah, it's been a whole year and still no action!" Well, I just want to have a quick word on that. Chance was not created to repeat cliché's or appeal to base desires. It's a complex work with so many layers that it would be a crime to reduce it to half baked, cheap porn like I see all the time. Chance, as well as a whole host of wonderful fanfics on my favorites (as well as a few undiscovered gems), are for thinking and mature types created by wonderful and talented writers. If you fit this mold, more power to you! Thank you for reading. Hope you stick around! Feel free to review, write me a PM or an email if you have a comment or an issue you want to share! Lemme heart your thoughts! It tells me that you still care!**_


	24. The Mad Hatter's Tea Party

**Updated: June 7th, 2008**

Author's note: Hello, readers. Please excuse the slight as I won't be updating as much, school and work have been draining me, plus I need to catch up on my moderating duties at a fan site. If you want me to hear you, please let me know. It does my heart good to know that people care. Even if you find something lacking, don't hesitate to tell me. Even a small positive note of approval is very much welcomed. That said, I shall proceed with the new chapter. I hope you enjoy this and I wish you all a Merry Christmas. I hope that you enjoy this present as a gift.

Era/setting: Post crisis 1985 with some OYL elements.

Pairing: The Bat and the Clown

Genre: Psychological, romance, drama, action

Rating: R (Will be NC-17 later) I advise that anyone under the age of 17 to read with caution as this story contains violence, language, and eventually sexual situations. There will be some private Easter Egg chapters in the future that will be request only. No underagers please, that means no one under the age of 17 unless you are mature enough to handle these situations.

Joker turned the shower head and adjusted it until it reached a lukewarm temperature, allowing himself time to get used to the change until it was comfortable for him to get inside.

"Is there anything else you need?" Bruce asked cordially, he presented the Joker with a fluffy new towel, a dark purple one, fresh out of the dryer and set it on the counter.

"I don't think you can fit cheese cubes and wine in a hot shower, can you Brucie?" Joker quipped, smiling back at his friend as he began to disrobe.

"I am sure we can manage something with my butler," Bruce replied warmly. The robe was on the floor, Joker peeked into the shower stall, touching the falling water with his cold and clammy hand, testing it for the right temperature. He took note of the Clown's long and lean thighs. They were long and they were so muscular, and yet so delicate. Batman had just figured out how Joker was able to keep up for so long and still fit into tiny crevices to narrowly escape his clutches before.

"No, no, I think I can manage for a bit, my persnickety little Bat," Joker looked back at his generous host. "Thank you, precious," Joker purred.

"The talcum is on the left door," Bruce nodded to the two closet-like compartments adjacent to the shower. "There are towels, sponges, and liquid bath gels."

"You are too kind, Bruce. You really know how to spoil someone. I think I'll take a rain check on that Dove Soap. Nasty stuff that it is…" Joker chuckled teasingly before shutting the door.

The Caliph of Clown's shook his hair before entering the stall before he finally closed the lid, shutting himself away from the rest of the state of the art bathroom and let the steam and hot water engulf him. On that note, Bruce took his cue and left. He still had time to prepare for the evening's ball. He wondered if Alfred had pressed the navy blue suit he had in mind. The one that Selina liked, he thought. He wanted to desperately to talk to her _about that night. _

After siphoning off some minor wrinkles and mothballs, Alfred resumed the dry cleaning on several of his Master's expensive Italian suits. The dark blue Dolce and Gabbana evening suit was set alongside the midnight black Giorgione Silvestri pantsuit on the bed. They made a statement and yet, they blended in. A playboy had to make a bold entrance and the Master wouldn't be second best in show, aside from Miss Kyle who left a message that she would be at the Metropolis Arts Center, which was the new hosting site of the 39th annual Personality Awards. A dark wine red tie added a bit of color to the otherwise monochrome style of the suits, but he was always open to the Master's suggestions. Even though the Master left diapers long ago, he still liked picking out the attire for Master Bruce.

"Have you occupied our new guest, sir?" Alfred queried as he folded a set of white shirts.

"He's in the shower. Don't worry. He knows not to get out of there anymore. I took the bottle of ketchup for him. I hope you don't mind." Bruce grimaced while he browsed through the various contents in his wood oak closet.

"How….very reassuring, sir," Alfred said dryly. "The Board of Contracts called sir, they were wondering if you could make some suggestions to the dilapidated areas in the East End, sir."

"Write them a check," Bruce replied. He pulled out and flapped open a white collar shirt.

"And the Director of Internal Affairs called. They were wondering if Wayne Enterprises was interested in making a speech for-"

"Write them a check," the playboy added again. What was with these people intruding in onto his schedule and at the last minute?

"And Master Dick called, sir. He hasn't heard from you in days. Shall I write a slip for ten thousand on your behalf?" _And perhaps make him go away? _The butler added.

Dick. He still felt bad about brushing him off the other day. There had been too many distractions, but that wasn't an excuse to keep brushing him off like how he had been doing recently. Dick wasn't stupid, if he had known what was really going on, he would have figured it out a long time ago. That didn't mean he was going to wait until the signs started to show up. Time was still on his side, and he had not a moment to lose. Maybe... of course! Dick mentioned that he was going to be there, with Barbara! Of course. He could catch up with him and perhaps, recruit him, not out of love, but as a favor. He loved him like a son, but he preferred not to see him as that. No matter how old he had gotten, he still saw that twelve year old in boy shorts and pixie boots.

And Tim. It had been awhile too, he could invite him along. It had been a long while.

"Get me a phone, Alfred,"

"Yes, sir," Alfred said.

Joker arched his neck back, letting the hot water touch and stream down his throat and stomach, caressing his body with hot drops kissing his skin. Steam had surrounded him and created a cloud in the shower stall, obscuring anything outside of the glass door. Joker moaned when he felt the water come gushing down, tickling his ventral area. The showers at Arkham never had warm water. It was always cold. It was too cold, like it didn't care for him. It was like a thousand steak knives pierced at his skin, and it was hard to breathe when standing under the stall. Now, the water welcomed him, held him close and aroused his senses. He applied some palm butter soap onto his skin and let the warm running water do the rest. It petted him, soothed his senses and held him close. He spread his legs and gasped when he felt the water trickle down his back. It delighted him to no end. It was hot and solid, it reminded him of Bruce when he was near. Joker let a rumble run in his throat when he applied some shampoo and faced the stall backwards, letting the water massage his back.

Damn those Herbal Essences commercials.

Joker was applying some soap on his arms when he heard the door creak open. Giggling girlishly, he added the final strokes and let the puffs of bubbles pour down from his legs and onto the wet floor tiles.

"No peeking, darling," Joker tittered.

No response. How cute.

"Yooohoo...Bats...?" Joker poked his wet head out of the small compartment to get a glimpse of his surprise guest. Even in deep immense fog, he knew that there wasn't anyone here, and he swore that he could tell that someone had dropped in. Was this some sort of funny that bats liked? A lightning white thigh stepped out onto the fluffy rug by the tub which was followed by an equally white limb reached out onto a handle, trying to get a sense of balance in the forest of fog generated by the heat.

"Bats? Oh, you want to play hide and seek…" Joker tittered and waited for a further response. Nothing. The only sounds in the bathroom were the dying drips coming out of the finely chiseled metal faucet. "Bats? Bruce?"

No sign of life in the place, and yet he swore he saw a bulky silhouette in the mist. Apparently, someone had been in here. Was it that kooky butler? He had always had it in for him. How rude, he thought. Always trying to muscle in between them, like an overprotective father. It's not like he pulled out a "Bang!" gun on the man when he was in the kitchen. Those Brits never appreciate a thing. They were such stiffs. He was so boring like a board. Joker chuckled at himself.

"What in the world?" Joker pondered when he saw a note attached to a fluffy towel which was set aside his lavender robe. It said.

_The Door_

The door? What was that supposed to mean? He already saw the door in which Bruce brought him into. This wasn't funny. He turned to the doorway, which was shut. Tightly. No matter how he tried to wriggle it, he couldn't open the door he knew led to the secret hallway that led to the cave. Whatever could he mean? Was this some sort of dry trick on part of that butler for his behavior? It did look like Bruce's writing. It was neat and crisp. This wasn't so funny, not any more.

The Door.

The door to what? The Prince scratched his head at the enigmatic message, trying to make sense of the vague message. It wasn't here when he came in here, so it was set after he had come in. The damn door was locked. Maybe, just maybe it wasn't the door he thought it was.

It wasn't that particular passageway he was thinking about. He noticed one of the closets that housed toiletries and bath products was open. The Prince investigated and looked into the crack. It was unusually set wide open. He didn't remember seeing it like that earlier. It wasn't until he opened the entrance further back did he realize the note's true intent. It wasn't a closet. It was an actual passageway that led to some dark steps. To the cave? There was only one way to find out.

After drying himself and reapplying his robe, the Prince traveled the secret passageway. He was confident that this was what Batman was referring to in the note. He would have shown up to pick him up and take him back, as he usually did. What else would it refer too? That butler didn't seem into practical jokes in at least. Even he did, he would come up with something.

The passageway was long, or at least it felt that way, as it was hard to see and the inner corridors had this maze like feel to them. He had to feel his way back at times. Damn these bats and their echolocation. The stairs seemed to lead to nowhere until he found the familiar look and smell of the bat cave. It was a secret entrance and exit. How ingenious, and cute, Joker thought. _In case you have any surprise guests like that cat cow, right, Bruce? _

It was bigger from this side of the cave, he thought now that he reflected back. He was used to that little corner by the bed. It felt cold standing on this side. He didn't like it because he wasn't used to it. He looked up and took note of a large crack where the lights barely breached on the ceiling. A large crack created by the quake stood out like a scar, a battle scar. Everything else seemed in place, except where he was. He missed that bed, the warmth, its comfort. He missed-

He noticed the bed was slightly different. It wasn't the sheets, or the way the pillows were arranged. A rather pleasant surprise awaited him upon his arrival. A box of bon-bons and some reading material were set, waiting for the Prince to consume them. There was a Harper Lee book, a TV guide and a box of ice cold chocolates waiting for him. Did Christmas come early? That wasn't coal, was it? Joker took a bite. It was full of vanilla and dark chocolaty sweetness in his mouth.

"Have any trouble finding your way back?" A familiar voice broke out, breaking Joker's train of thought.

"Not really." He lied. "I just wish you had given me a warning, I am not a Bat. A night creature, yes, but I am not a flying mammal." Joker quipped. He turned to the direction of the voice to note a handsome and tall figure emerging from the shadows. It was Bruce, but he was no longer donning casual attire, rather, he was in an expensive looking suit, the kind that you wear when you battle it out in business meetings or on a night on the town. The little red tie was a nice touch, Joker said to himself. It was red, red like his own leer. How positively saccharinely sweet, the Prince smiled. He liked the homage.

"I'll remember that for future reference," Bruce added. He looked so positively radiant in formal attire, it was almost intimidating. It was black like his 'other' trademark evening wear, highlighting and accentuating his form to his advantage.

"Dressed to kill, I see…Lady kill perhaps?" Joker added after finishing surveying the contents of Bruce's new wardrobe.

"It's part of the job, I don't think you'll mind..." Bruce replied, beaming back. It delighted the Joker to see that mouth stretch up into that welcoming gaze. He put a hand to cover half of his face and pretended to see a cowl.

"Oh, no, it doesn't bother me a bit," he said while walking behind the other man. He stretched out a lean pair of arms and crossed them across his stomach, pulling him close, "...because I've got the real thing coming home to me" Joker purred.

"You like doing that don't you?" Bruce turned back to face the Clown as much as he could. His playfulness was starting to grow on him. He seemed to have lessened the tension and help him relax a little more, to breathe a little easier. His muscles contracted at the touch. They were less strained. He had to admit, Joker was like the oil in his wheel. The creaking wasn't as bad.

"No less than you like putting on that act for those rich stiffs and their bimbos," Joker chirped up, tracing a finger up and down the other man's stomach.

"Who said, I liked it? It's part of the job." Bruce added. "It helps seal in business deals...I get to meet people..."

"And that includes lying to yourself a little bit, no?" Joker piped up.

"A little bit," Bruce admitted. "But it's those white kinds of lies. Nobody ever gets hurt, and in the end, everyone gets their fair share of the pie." It was a cleaner version of what it was, but for the most part it was a good explanation.

"Yes, but what about people like Bambi, and Candy, whatever they call themselves these days..."

Bruce laughed. "They are just dates Joker. They are nothing serious. Sometimes I want to help someone's father promote the next digital toy, I will do it. It's okay. Put that green eye away for me, please..."

Joker seemed less than thrilled at the answer, but he swallowed it with pride. He didn't want to let his Bat go. It would have been easier to climb Mt. McKinley in an hour than to keep him in the cave forever and ever.

"Whatever. Just bring me back one of those shrimp cocktail thingies for me. I've always wanted to try one of those!"

"I'll do my best." Bruce said warmly, trying to get the Prince out of his gloomy mood. He didn't like it, and not because of the fact that it reminded him of the old Joker. He just didn't like seeing him like this. It was only going to be for a bit, he said to himself.

He had to leave, not because he wanted to, he had to. He had trusted the Joker to find his way back to the cave, so surely he could escape for a few hours. He had everything provided for down here and made double sure he locked the grandfather clock and all other exits and entrances that lead back to the Mansion. There was one more thing to check off on the list.

"Before I leave, do you want to watch any TV?" Bruce stated quickly. He was short on time, and he wanted to sneak in some last minute pampering before leaving.

"Hmmm, now that you mention it, the Cubs are doing pretty well in the World Series thus far, but darn it, I want to watch my Wheel of Fortune! Do you TiVO?" Joker inquired, raising his index.

"You can arrange the settings, if you don't mind me showing you." Bruce stated. Joker was eager. They both were at the computer terminal when Bruce demonstrated how to run the cable settings on the computer.

"You use the yellow button to switch to Eastern time, and you use the green one if you want to watch Pacific time. Make sense?" Bruce said finally. He wanted to make sure his companion was just comfortable, and he didn't want to give his butler a heart attack. Again.

"Now remind me again, what is it exactly you are going to go again?" Joker said while glancing at the screen. It was bottom of the 9th and the umpire had just called a strike.

"The Personality Awards. It recognizes leadership and humanitarian causes."

"Oh, phooey!" Joker said with a raspberry. "I wonder what the requirements are. They let anybody in!"

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, I will try and get something out of Scarecrow's lawyer."

Joker's eyes snapped wide at the comment. Her. There! If only he had his trusty marbles.

"Her tongue would be preferable," Joker said with a fit giggles. He played with the remote like it was his new favorite Christmas toy.

"I was thinking maybe information."

"Hmmm, scratch that then." Joker said finally. He reached for a bowl of air popped popcorn and saltine crackers. It was almost a sin to feel this pampered and taken care of. He didn't want it to end. The icing on the top for him was to see Brucie' in that bunny apron.

"Comfy?" Bruce added.

"Very. Bon bon?" Joker offered a chocolate bit to the playboy.

"No thanks," he pushed it back gently. Joker stood up and stood on his knees on the chair and gave Bruce a small kiss on the cheek.

He thumbed nervously and waited for the clock. Twelve minutes. It had been twelve minutes too long. True he had gotten used to this sort of thing. It was part of the job, and sometimes, you just learned that you didn't have to ask.

"So, how's school?" he asked the younger, smaller boy across from him. They were both in a large study hall.

"I can't complain. I've got extra geometry to work on, but it's part of what we do," he reassured the older, more experienced one he saw like a brother.

"Yeah, right," Dick responded.

They had both been called in at the last minute to come to Bruce's house. It was surprising to both of them why he would summon them at the last minute for something not directly related to their nocturnal overtures. On the other hand, it was reassuring to finally hear from him. While they were both distracted with their own patrol, Bludhaven and managing the Titans, Dick and Tim were both relieved to finally hear from him. Truth be told, it was a bittersweet surprise.

"So, you hear from the big guy before?" Tim asked Nightwing.

"Well, I saw him a few days ago. He seemed nervous, more than usual, but I didn't wanna bug him about it."

"Weird." Tim said.

"Very," Dick stated.

"Wh-what happened?" the third Robin pressed on. They were both alone, so it wouldn't hurt to trade a few words before He would show up. He was doing some of his own investigating on the subject. He was barely able to scrounge for anything verifiable and it would take either Him or the whole pack of Titans to track it. He preferred it if it was Bruce. With him, at least there weren't as many people to keep track of, and he usually got the results quicker.

"Well, see funny thing is I come over, you know, to say hi and surprise him."

"And he didn't like it? Figures." Tim

"That's not what I am getting at. It's like he was trying to hide something...like really really trying to hide. You should have been there."

"Weird," Tim said, mildly put off. He was used to Bruce keeping to himself. He couldn't believe Dick but at the same time, he wouldn't exaggerate either. He just wouldn't.

"What did he say?"

"Nothing, it's what he did that kinda put me off."

"Maybe he had a guest over..." Tim offered.

"Very funny, and since when has Bruce been shy about that, squirt?"

"Woah,"

"Yeah," Dick replied. "If anything, I think he is hiding something."

"I dunno, bro. I just learned not to ask questions after awhile. You know how Bruce likes his privacy." The Boy Wonder stated back.

"Yeah, I know he does, but does that give him any reason to suddenly stop calling?" Nightwing nodded.

"Look, I'm not saying that I don't believe you, bro. It's just I don't think Bruce would, um. ...you know, hide stuff from us. He has problems and me, Raven and Cyborg have had a few busy rounds these past two weeks. I could use a little break, that doesn't mean that I don't care!"

"Don't try and get out of this one, chum." Dick sighed. "Fine, then. I'm going to make a proposal. I say we both try and get to the bottom of this. If something is really distracting Bruce, then I thinking we have a right to know. Don't you?"

The Boy Wonder sighed. He was right. He just wasn't too fond of the idea of trying to muscle in on Bruce like that. He was a father, but he cared. Truth be told, he was a bit worried and wondered where he was. He had to admit, he did wonder what was going on with Bruce.

"Alright, we'll talk to him," he said finally.

"Talk to me about what?" A familiar, generous voice spoke out. Both young men tensed at its direction. Tim looked at Dick for quick inspiration.

"Um, we were discussing what to get your for Christmas," Tim quipped.

"Oh. Well, I don't think that merits a discussion. I thought those were supposed to be surprises."

"Well, we were just throwing ideas on what to get the man who has everything," Dick Grayson said quickly, trying to cover for the other.

"Hmmm, I see. Well, you can talk about that in the car. Alfred is waiting."

Dick gave Tim a thumbs up when Bruce turned around.

The Personality Awards made the Golden Globes look like a small tea party. They were relocated to the Metropolis Arts Center because the Gotham City Hall was in need of some refurbishment from the quake. Giant searchlights hoisted themselves up to the night sky, shining to the heavens and let Gotham know that her art patrons, scientists, humanitarians, and public figures were cherished. Lucius Fox was up for a role in managing Bruce's Empire as was crusading attorney Donna Larson whose fiery tongue and passion made her a star in her own right. Even though he wasn't up for any awards, Bruce Wayne made a statement and the entrance. He was here as a 'close friend of Lucius' and that he' 'was proud of his endeavors.' Dick and Tim were quoted as being 'here for the girls'.

Once inside, the gala spectacle welcomed artists, designers, directors, as well as a few big names stars in its list. They three of them blended in perfectly.

"So, what's going on with with you and Kory, Dick?" Tim smirked, knowing that it was a subject that tickled him but turned his older 'brother' red as a tomato.

"Since when is my love life on City Confidential, squirt?" Dick gave Tim a soft noogie.

"I'm just trying to break the ice. What's wrong with that?" Tim nudged the ex Boy Wonder.

"All right boys, behave now." Bruce spoke up paternally. It did warm him to see his so called family again. It felt good to be connected and to see that they were safe. "So, any news on the foxes?" Bruce turned to his ward. It took a few seconds for Tim finally catch the meaning.

"Negative. Not so much as a head of straw or a strand of green hair."

"Same here." Dick added, talking in between them. "I even tried to infiltrate some of them on the beat, but nada." Dick reiterated

"Something tells me that he's not working alone. I think this is a set up, a la a game of Dominoes."

"He is right. This is all too...organized for someone like Scarecrow."

They talk amongst themselves for a few moments. So far, no one has made their move. The lions had yet to make their pounce and they had all the time in the world, but for some reason, they were waiting for a word. But who's? Carrying out an organized rig wasn't exactly Scarecrow's MO, but they wouldn't rule that one out just yet. Was this a new step in the Master of Fear's metamorphosis or was someone else pulling the strings?

"So what you are saying is that you don't think he's alone in this?"

Bruce nodded. The boys traded glances of concern.

"Well, I don't think you need a soapbox speech, but I am with you on this one." Dick said boldly.

"Tim?"

"What else can I say? I'll tell Raven to cover for me."

And so, they hosted an unofficial alliance. This was something that would require more of him, and Bruce never felt more proud of his two 'sons'. He never needed more than he did now.

"So it's agreed. We start as soon as possible." Bruce said.

"That means you have to eat light and sleep less," Robin turned to the former Boy Wonder.

"Oh that's it!" Dick said playfully.

"Boys please. Keep it civil at least..."

"Yes, boys, listen to your father..." a sultry female voice spoke out. Dick was caught off guard when he noticed the familiar facade. Dark, raven hair. Deep set catlike eyes, but most of all, it was that low voice that sounded like a cat's purr.

"Selina." Bruce answered.

"Bruce, it's been awhile," she joined the circle and intertwined herself between him and his wards.

"Boys?"

"I'm gonna go hit the buffet table. You with me, squirt?" Dick challenged the younger boy.

"You're on. Last one there is a rotten robin's egg!"

They both sped off to the smorgasbord of delicatessen treats.

"They grow up so fast," Selina purred softly.

"Listen, I wanted to apologize about the..._other night._.." Bruce cleared his throat.

"Apologize? For what? I can take care of myself, darling," Selina trailed her fingers up onto Bruce's chin. "I'm a big girl, I don't need your pity."

"Selina, please. Allow me-"

"Save it, Bruce." Selina growled, trying to keep her voice low. "I half busted my rear trying to get those tapes for you!" If looks could kill, he would have had his shirt slashed.

"And believe me, I am very grateful,"

"Explain to me that and why you have Clowny under your wing?" Selina said while taking a sip from her champagne glass. Bruce sighed deeply. How to explain to the woman he once loved, and still did to an extent the real reason why he hadn't had the Joker broiled.

"Selina, please forgive me. I've just been doing a lot of...thinking."

"I can see that, and yet you don't even bother telling me? Bruce, I know something is up..." Selina piped up. She clawed in her way far too closely. She couldn't even retract a nail before it was all out. She was too close.

"Selina, please-" Bruce reached out.

"Don't touch me-" she hissed. "Don't touch me, if you don't mean it!"

Bruce surveyed their surroundings. So far, no one had picked up on the scuffle.

"Selina...I'm sorry," Bruce said dimly. He couldn't think of anything to say that would console Catwoman. She was fire, and her temperament left little room to stop the blaze. There really was nothing he could do to try and tame her. She had known too much. Was there any real effort left?

"God, you're despicable!" She hissed and threw the remaining bit of wine in her glass and hurled it at the playboy. She turned around and stomped away, hurt not only by his callousness, but the fact that he couldn't admit it. That wasn't the only thing that tore at Selina Kyle's heart. She still couldn't get that image out of her mind, when they thought she was gone, and shared an intimate kiss, and he couldn't bring himself to admit it in her face.

Bruce stood solemnly at the sight. Other guest nearby barely noted the scuffle. It was rebuked as a lover's quarrel and nothing more. They didn't need to know why. That was secret that was beginning to take a toll on him emotionally and socially.

"Hey there, big guy. You okay?" A young woman's voice spoke out. Bruce looked down. She had red hair and was in a wheelchair. Barbara. Smart reliable Barbara. She didn't need to see this, she didn't have to see him defeated.

"Hello Barbara, is your father around?"

"Yeah, he's just over talking over some rules with the boys in blue. You know how it goes."

"It's good to know," Bruce said solemnly.

"Hey, you wanna talk about it? I mean, it wasn't exactly as quiet as a meadow when I heard that."

_Heard? Oh, God, was he losing his touch already? Had he gotten so messy that he couldn't be Bruce Wayne, carefree playboy anymore?_

"No thanks. I appreciate the gesture though, Barbara."

She wore a sleek black halter top dress with her hair held up high. Even handicapped, Barbara still had that delicate look. No one would have suspected that a cute little red head was actually Oracle, hacker extraordinaire. She had the ability to break into Congress codes and bring down small countries by breaking into their codes and revealing their secrets. If she could, she would have been a mercenary, but her training alongside him made her uphold the law, just as she did when she donned the cape and cowl. Even out of costume, she had the same charm, playfulness, and reliability she had as Batgirl.

"Do you want any updates, if it's the least I could do..." she offered.

Why not?

"Let's hear it," Bruce prodded on.

"Well, my sources tell me that Scarecrow is on the move and that he may or may not be relying on extra hands for his dirty work."

"What else?" He already knew that, but he wasn't in the mood to bring his troubles to another one of his protégés.

"Huntress warned me about the muscle and that they are recruiting young kids as their extra set of hands. Some were as young as 13 years old in the Tri Corner area. They mostly stole electronics and stuff."

Bruce didn't say anything. He was deciding between going home as soon as Lucius got his award for a midnight patrol or leaving now. He didn't want to think luck was in on it. Was it possible that they were waiting for him to make a move and that maybe that's why they hadn't struck? What was their motivation? What was their collective goal? What if there wasn't one and they all worked for pay like the Riddler used them at one point? There were too many questions. Everything was so vague and delicate like a bubble. There was nothing concrete yet.

A tall, lankly looking butler stood over the roster of names in a small secluded area of the gala. Most of the guests were entered and security had transferred there as well. The rest scattered in other parts of the area.

Perfect.

He muttered something to himself when he barely noted a party walking up to him. Last minute guests. The nerve.

"Name?" He said without looking up.

"Stick, first name Slap," a dark voice replied.

The butler tensed at the words and made a quick overview of the guest list. No such name, surprisingly enough was seen, and nicknames were only limited to big name crime bosses who kept their hands clean.

"I am sorry, sir, your name is not on the list," the butler replied, looking strangely at the figure hiding in the shadows and donning a trench coat and funny looking hat.

"Oh, I believe I am, my good man."

A quick THWACK was heard and darkness fell.

"Man, you can sure do a lot with a Ritz cracker!" Barbara observed lovingly as she observed Dick and Tim stuff themselves with cream cheese and crackers with all kinds of fix ins.

"You want some, Babs? Try the ham!" Dick placed a plateful of the delicious morsels in front of her.

"Eh, no thanks guys. I'm watching what I eat," she said kindly. She could get rid of them with extra arm exercises and upper body workouts, but she wasn't up to that when she was waist deep in three different cases with the Birds.

"Oh come, on just one tiny bit, for me?" Dick offered, batting those gorgeous blue eyes at her. She took a brie glazed cracker and tasted it.

"Good. Fatty, but good," she said, in between chews.

"Atta' girl," Dick mused while wiping a strand of her hair from her face. It was good to see her smile again.

"Excuse me a minute," Bruce said. He left them and headed towards a balcony, which was pretty much vacant aside from one couple sharing an intimate moment underneath the stars. The sky was clear, save for a few clouds casting a shadow over parts over the city and covering a huge chunk of the moon. Something was missing. A piece of the puzzle, but what it was, he hadn't a clue. Everything was shaken up, everything he had once known was now testing his tolerance for it. A change in rules, it seemed. He let out a deep breath both out of frustration and desperation. Something wasn't right. Someone had studied him and bribed his enemies. Couple that with what to do with the Joker after all this was said and done, he hadn't a clue. He felt like a bloodhound without a scent to follow.

"Geez, he's got it bad," Barbara observed. Dick and Tim turned their direction towards where she was facing.

"No more than usual," Tim commented.

"Has he said anything, Babs?" Dick asked.

"No, he hasn't spoken to me at all. This Scarecrow case is really getting to him, and believe me I have tried getting answers with Dinah and Helena, but zilch. Can you blame him?"

"Not to mention what this does to his pride," Tim added. The three glanced at each other, wondering what lay ahead for them, and him. This wasn't a run of the mill case. This was something else.

A loud crack was heard echoing across the ballroom. Guests seized what they were doing at the moment and turned towards the source of the sound. It was by the entrance. A small motley crew of bandits in animal masks and trench coats were surrounding their figure head, who was wearing a very familiar large bit of head wear.

"Citizens of Gotham, I know that this is a gathering for you all to recognize your artists and pioneers, but have you all forgotten who makes Gotham a very colorful and lively city that outshines Star City, Keystone, and even this, your precious sister, Metropolis! Forgive me, but this is going to hurt you than it does me, so sit back, relax, and have a nice spot of tea!"

At that moment, the figure lifted his hat as a perverse salutation and revealed a trademark broken grin. Jervis Tetch. The Mad Hatter had arrived. Screams filled the hall room as swarms of bodies scurried to find a safe haven from the homicidal and delusional madman.

"Ah, ah, ah, one by one, each of you will fall, if you don't give up your valuables and heed my call..." he said dementedly and fired shots in the air, adding chaos to the already stirred bee's nest.

Barbara, Tim, and Dick scurried for cover and safety.

"Quick, you guys run for cover, I'll see if I can IM some help on the way." Barbara pulled out a large bag which contained a state of the art laptop.

"Babs, we can't, we have to get you somewhere-!" Dick protested.

"Just leave me here! Don't worry! Get people to safety! NOW!" She ordered. She pulled out a set of earphones and a speaker, but not before she found seclusion. She had this under control. It was their turn to contribute.

Bruce made it back into the main chambers before he was greeted with a stampede of a crying and scared mob.

"Dick! TIM!" Bruce bellowed. He didn't have to wait to see that they were both occupied and distracted the hired help and gave the rest of the guests' time. Dick gave a quick roundhouse kick to a man in a pig mask in the stomach, while Tim complimented it by jabbing another one, this time in a wolf mask, repeatedly. They repeated the process to the others.

"ARGH!" Tim growled when he felt a hot bullet scrape across his bicep.

"NO!!" Dick yelled. He gave the culprit a kick in the face.

Even with a hand on his arm, Tim delivered several well timed kicks and punches with his other arm. If anything, the added pressure heightened his senses to be quicker.

Dick barely missed a neat slash across his chest and returned the favor by hoisting himself up on a chair and gave a solid kick to another henchman. They were all falling down like dominoes.

"Alfred! I need backup!" Bruce yelled into his cell.

"Right away sir," the butler replied.

"Grrr! How many did you count?" Tim yelled over at Dick while he tackled three heavies. Dick gave two stealth jabs to one masked marauder before replying.

"I counted twelve, why?" He huffed.

"I meant the ones that are standing!" Tim responded as he gave a roundhouse kick to another henchman.

"My, my, my, what have we here? Two more toys to play with, Santa must have been pleased with me this year," Tetch said dementedly. His smile looking like a hyena's grimace more than a man's twisted smile. It made Tim's insides jump and squirm.

"You won't get away with this! Batman will see to it!"

"Batman! Your precious Batman, come to stop me? I'd love to see him try!" He pointed his gun towards the two young men, both caught in a headlight.

"Tell your precious savior that if he does not listen to the song of the Crow, it's consequences will be far worse than what Carthage had to sow..."

Both young men carefully dodged the aim of the gun, each wary of the fact that at any second, it would shoot out at them.

"Quit stalling, buck teeth! Where is Scarecrow?" Tim bellowed!

"Ah, ah, ah, not now my little starling. That is a secret for the Bat's ears only. Oh, it does me good down to my skin and bone, I get to kill two birds with one stone!" He smiled devilishly and aimed his pistol I their direction. Before he pulled back the trigger, he was knocked off balance and fell onto the floor.

"Ahhh, Batman. What a pleasant surprise," Tetch said, and wiped the blood of his nose. The remaining four henchmen each tried to suppress the Dark Knight.

"I'm here, Tetch!" Batman growled. The familiar lion's roar tickled the Mad Hatter's ears. Alice has followed the white rabbit into the rabbit hole and into this most beautiful wonderland.

"I'm here, Tetch! Leave the boys alone! It's me you want!"

"You really should forgive the slight, Batman. You see, you weren't supposed to know about the Crow's song until much later. No matter, a man of your tolerance shouldn't really feel the difference in how full his plate is..."

Batman reached out and pulled the Mad Hatter closer. Teeth were bearing into the other man's face.

"Where is Scarecrow!?"

"Here, there, everywhere, and nowhere. He's everywhere you want to be, Batman. It's all make believe. Scarecrows don't exist, silly little bat..."

Batman growled even louder. He bellowed once again.

"WHERE IS CRANE? NO MORE WORD GAMES TETCH!"

"Come closer Batman, I want you to listen to me well.

He is right next door to Hell."

As if on cue, a cloud of green puffed out of the Mad Hatter's hat, spraying the surroundings with a thick cloud of deterrent smoke. In only seconds, he had lost the madman and found himself only a bit of tattered shards. He threw them down in frustration and ran towards the nearest exist where he caught a henchman running out. They all went into a white minivan. He recalled a similar model described by Barbara. That had to be, he couldn't afford to lose them.

"Give them water! Give them shelter!" Bruce ordered.

He was in hot pursuit of the vehicle, which was going Westbound further and further away from Metropolis. He contacted Oracle who guided him with the routes. This was too close, too close. He had them on his fingertips. So close. Damn it. He couldn't afford to lose them.

The toxic waste dump was the perfect hiding place if you didn't want to get caught, especially if you were on the run. Unless environmental agencies came a callin', it was a place she called home. The phone rang.

"Mm hmmm. Yes, I'm on it," and she hung up.

"Harley, let's get a move on."

**This was written to present a mature, possible take on the Batman/Joker relationship. There will be sex, but please don't think about it as that strictly, but as a romantic tale between two arch foes who strip down (no pun intended) and explore new possibilities in their intertwining and complex relationship. This is a mature tale for adults only, not cheap porn to satisfy hormones. If you want that, look elsewhere. To the rest of you, I wish you a Merry Christmas/Happy Kwanzaa/Death of Osiris/Boxing Day! I hope you enjoyed your present. This was a very difficult chapter to write, but now, it's all out in the open!**

Next Chapter: Harley and Ivy and the Dark Knight go on a night on the town! Stay tuned!


	25. Crazy, Crazy Nights

Author's note: Sorry for the wait, I've been busy. There are so many things going on in RL, I just didn't have time. Anyway, I don't want to bore you and I hope that you enjoy the story. As always please read and review. I love hearing your thoughts even if they are just two words as long as they aren't 'You suck'. I merely ask a paragraph of examples, suggestions of syntax, continuity errors or anything of that ilk if you feel that way: P And for the rest of you, thanks for enjoying the ride. This story is for you guys, especially the silent ones.

Era/setting: Post crisis 1985, some OYL, pre FC (Final Crisis) Think Killing Joke, Arkham Asylum, some BTAS, A Death in the Family, the Man Who Laughs

Characters: Batman, Joker, Harley Quinn, Poison Ivy

Genre: psychological, romance, drama, action, noir

Rating: M for Mature audiences only. I can't stop anyone under the age of 17 to stop, but please be warned, this is for mature audiences only. If you fit that criteria, good on you.

Recommendations: The Game We Play, Path of the Jester, Throwaway Card

Archive: Yes, just ask me. I usually respond within 24 hours.

Synopsis: Dark Knight meets the Mistress of Mayhem and the Vixen of Vines.

Updated: June 7th, 2008

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"Harley! Let's get a move on!" The red head yelled towards the jester who made herself comfortable by munching on bon bons and soda pop.

"200 hundred! 200 hundred! NOOO!!" Harley Quinn bellowed at the TV screen. "Ya dumb mook! I've seen those go for less than that on ebay, ya chump!" she said screeching and as a final touch, threw a remote control at the television set in a huff. Whoever heard of a washing machine at three grand? Only in the Jetsons but that's because of all the cool gadgets.

"Harley, dearest, I know you want to watch your TV Trash, but we have work to do. How are we going to pay these bills if you insist on mooching on like this?" Poison Ivy said with her hands on her hips.

"What? We can't leave right now! Another episode of the Price if Right is on and after that, it's the Golden Girls! Bob Barker's on a roll!!" Harley whined. Red had to admit, she did find it cute when her friend made that sad puppy dog look, but now, she would rather throw a hot pan at that pasty face that kiss it.

"Later, cupcake, but first, work" Poison Ivy petted the blonde's locks while emphasizing the last word. She had this mother hen attitude that did mildly irritate Harley, but it was better than being kicked, scratched and basically having her ass handed back to her for the millionth time by Mr. J. Plus, she didn't yell as much or demean her on the level like the Joker did. Well, not as violently as he did. The only setback was that gosh darn beet juice and cabbage for dinner EVER.SINGLE.NIGHT. Chocolate was a no no because the cacao was stripped of its rich natural resources, or so Red said. Still, it was better than no home or Arkham, where the macaroni sucked.

"Fine, fine, don't get yer panties in a knot, Red." Harley said solemnly as she adjusted her ponytails. "Say, remind me again why are we doing this?" Harley Quinn queried as she followed her friend into the kitchen where Rusty, Ivy's pet begonia/snap dragon was getting its meal, and one couldn't underestimate that snap. It was over 6 feet of part pod, part muscle and all hungry as it devoured its 

dinner: soil, minerals, and protein, the homo sapien kind. Humans were the other white meat, and her baby needed the iron to keep up its strength.

"Well, as much as I know, I wouldn't have a clue. I'm just enjoying my freedom outside that hell hole before I hear from Riddler or any of our friends." Ivy petted the chrysathoropod in a motherly fashion. "It's okay baby, my mommy will only be gone for a little bit." She said before blowing a kiss to her creation. To her, flora was always the win over children. They were always well behaved, you feed them less often, and they don't talk back to you. She was very proud of the child of her genius.

"Eh? Is there sumthin I don't know 'bout, Red?" Harley said incredulously. She had trusted her friend to tell her everything, from beauty secrets to what happened to past boyfriends, she and Red were close. Something stank like a rotten egg and she wanted to find out. Ever since they were out, they did all the things that best friends did, their nails, some shopping, a robbery here and there. Not once did she mention something that even remotely sounded like a large scale scheme, not that there was anything wrong with that of course. She just hated missing her prime time TV. Still, she was the only one that put up with her woes about the Joker, her mishaps. It was a miracle she had forgiven her especially after that Zombie Root incident.

"Nothing that would trouble you too much, Harl," Ivy replied. She didn't want to reveal too much because she really didn't know how much there was. Everything was all misty, and she took the free time to care for her home and garden. It was like renting something and she put it on a lease. As far as she knew, the risks were small, but the pay was good.

"Hey, I smell a rat here, and I wanna know where it is! I may be blonde, Red but I ain't that dumb. Yeah, I goof up here and there…"

Try all the time, Ivy mumbled under her breath.

"….but at least I'm useful! 'Member when I saved her rear from El presidente on Costa Verde! You were all WOOSH-" Harley proclaimed, fondly remembering their less that spacious vacation somewhere in the middle of Central America.

"I remember, Harl," Pam said sternly. "Fine, since you asked, Eddie says that there's a big surprise for our resident rodent," she said maliciously. The Batman was always a pest in her garden. The rules of man didn't apply to her. Industry, civilization, machinery, capitalism, this world of men was destroying mother Earth with their greed, abuse, and pollution, and now they are crying wolf when it was too late with their Go Green Campaigns and Live Earth foundations. Despicable. The only ones getting rich were men like the President of Costa Verde. Well, it wasn't too late. She still had a chance. She was like Mother Nature incarnate and with all this global warming, and now, she was reclaiming her depth. It was men like the Batman who stopped her from achieving her vision, her goal, and her dream. Batman. Bat. Man. Man. This world stinks of men and anything of their ilk. Their obsession with competition and dominance instead of nurturing and caring for their surroundings boiled her broccoli. Starting with him, she would play checkmate soon enough.

"Gee, really? Who's gonna bring the cake and cocktails? The Molotov kind..." Harley said with a giggle.

"Us, if we have the time. Oh, and about those cables?" Ivy looked up.

"Oh, yeah, right here!" Harley handed up the neatly rolled up bundle to her friend. It felt thick and heavy, the kind that would tear skin if whipped upon. Something told her it wasn't going to be used to pull a car out of a tar pit, which meant fun tonight.."So yeah, a big plan and we smash the rat, and then boom. So then whattawee do?"

"Patience, grasshopper, we won't kill the Batman... " Ivy kneeled up and placed her hands on her friends shoulder. She was so young and so naïve. That bastard clown ruined her, so it wasn't entirely her fault, for she would right those wrongs. She was a broken marionette and she would fix that, 

teach her how to see things from a new perspective and undo that which held her back. Hers. She was all hers now. She planted a gentle peck on her cheek as a token of affection, like a brush of fingers on someone's face. Harley Quinn blushed.

"...ssshhhhh. We're just going to have a little fun with him is all." She whispered softly. It reminded her of when the Joker did that when he was getting romantic or at least his version of it before he tossed her out for the night after he scolded her for not cleaning up after Bud and Lou or getting his socks in the right color combination. But with Red, it was different. She actually cared. She was like that big sister who spanked you.

"'Kay," Harley said reassuringly. "But seriously Red, what is the big hush hush about? Is this one of those do not open 'til Christmas sorta things? Whaddo I gotta do to get in? If it's hazing, you gotta remember, I've been to college-!" BetaZetaNu was so merciless. She shuddered when she recalled a particular ritual she had to do after she was pledged. The stuff that her sisters made her do were far more humiliating than the kind Joker inflicted on her. At least Joker never made her separate M&Ms with her nose or pick up a Slurpee at 3AM. Hell, he never asked her to go surfing in nothing but a thong bikini in the middle of a high surf at night.

"Harley, you know as well as I do. To the best of my knowledge, I have to wait until I hear from Eddie or Johnny, but in the meantime, I just wanted to get back in touch with nature and...recollect..." Poison Ivy responded as she set down the rest of the materials needed for the evening's activities: Muscle growth serum in a barrel, wiring, rope, a baseball bat, tar and feathers. The last two were Harley's ideas, just in case they were needed... and she was feeling generous. They tried it once during a break when the girl gave Ivy chicken breast instead of tofu at all night diner.

"So then, how do you know that yer not on a wild goose chase? What if yer just getting used like you keep saying all the time?" Harley noted darkly. She leaned back on the wall by the doorway to support herself. Something tickled her the wrong way.

"Because there is too much at stake and from what I can tell it's a big one! The Riddler gave us specific plans, and now, dear, it's our turn." Ivy said while placing an arm behind her friend's back warmly.

"So whaddo we gotta do? Shoot 'im? Tickle 'im to death? Tie him to a rocket ship?"

"Oh no, we can be a little creative," Ivy cooed, while toying with one of Harley's bells on her hat. "And if you are a good little clown, we can listen to The Bangles after we have gotten our prey."

Those were the magic words. Ivy was stealthier like Mister J, except she wasn't as creative or use any funny gags like whoopee cushions which were her favorite toy during their stake outs. She did all the talking while she was muscle, but now, she had a chance to show off her creative strength in a more grand light.

"Gee, Red, ya mean it, like I can really try that tar and feather gag on Bats?"

Ivy groaned internally, but she was so cute, like a Chihuahua pup with rabies or a giant Venus fly trap eating its first solid food. She was so precious.

"Whatever makes you happy, baby. And remember, no mistakes and we mustn't get caught."

"Thanks Red!" Harley had to admit, she was far more romantic than the Joker and she smelled good too. He smelled like cotton candy or mint, while she smelled like exotic roses and perfume. "So, now what?" Harley queried when she helped pile in the last barrels of serum in the trunk.

"Can you drive stake shift?" Ivy patted down the trunk of her Rosebud mobile invitingly.

It was a race against time as the Batman pressed down on the accelerator and sped down the highway in hot pursuit of the Mad Hatter, his first sighting in what felt like months. He was so close, he had the worm on the hook and the fish was trying to get away. A jet black shadow sped down the highway leaving black streaks on the road in its wake. A burning rage gritted on the vehicle and the Dark Knight himself in a race against time to catch up with a very promising lead. He had last caught them on Highway 701 heading towards Keystone.

"Oracle,"

"Roger," a green mechanical head-like being emerged onto the screen after Batman tapped some demands on the control panel. She was the ultimate information database, his link to any clues outside of his range when time wouldn't allow it. She was once at his side.

"Get me the coordinates on a white minivan, license plate 7XW7889" he demanded.

"Right," Barbara responded. She opened up a window on the large computer in front of her which held the keys and database of the entire city. She zoomed in on the narrow stretch of highway from where the Dark Knight had dispatched her.

"You are on Ethanac Road and you are two miles away from the nearest highway. You still have time to catch up with them." Oracle responded. She sipped her third batch of coffee for the evening, and despite her cool and calm demeanor, within laid a restlessness and drive that she kept under a dormant face. Even out of costume, the surge of adrenaline never went away.

"Have you any patterns to where the vehicle has been to before?"

The Dark Knight added pressure to gas pedal.

"Negative, but the description seems like a vaguely familiar one, you can't take chances." Oracle replied and tapped rabidly on a few keys.

"It's the same vehicle."

"What?" Barbara replied while adjusting her headset.

"It's the same vehicle. The white van in Keystone. You mentioned it. This could be it." Batman responded sternly.

"How do you know?" Oracle tapped for a few more searches, but in a sea of the same vehicles under the same description, she couldn't see how he had decoded the cryptic pattern.

"They just changed the license plates. It all makes sense. Oracle, do you have any records of any imports by the docks or Brubaker Warehouse?"

Barbara did as she was ordered and made some searches. Nothing unusual except for an order of cocaine, as judged by blue dots in three parts of the TriCounty area. Weapons were represented with yellow and were more common in parts of Bristol. There were no usual patterns at first glance on the map. All except this one dot, green which barely graced the blue and yellow in the Northeastern part of Gotham County. That was under miscellaneous. There were ways to track this, hidden camera, well paid eyes, even under cover lackeys. They must have covered up their tracks so well that it went under their noses and from the looks of it. It was something small and random that the police could handle.

"Oh, God," Barbara gasped. "Bruce, you don't mean..."

She was cut off immediately.

"Faster you fools! Faster!" Jervis Tetch demanded to his henchmen. Like a jackrabbit, he had barely escaped the clutches of the Dark Knight who was in hot pursuit of him. He had barely felt the claws scratch at his skin. He had tasted the danger and now it was coming back for him.

"I am telling you, go faster!" Tetch bleated. "I don't care if you run over ducklings crossing the road! Stop dawdling!!"

On that note, the henchman in a Rabbit mask pressed down on the gas as much as he could to increase the distance between them. Predator and prey. It looks so interesting on the Discovery Channel but once in the middle of it, it felt like a sick circus freak show where the rules didn't apply and your boss didn't matter if you were mauled by the lions, Al thought. He had a wife and child, but he needed the pay. As long as you played along with the Mad Hatter's delusions you got not only your pay, but your pulse as well.

It was is time had slowed down when the Dark Knight finally caught sight of a tiny white dot in the distance, only to see his prize speed up and go out of his reach at the same second. He had more viscosity than the Mad Hatter, it felt like, which only increased his heart rate. He was like thick honey running down hill, while the Hatter was milk. It wasn't a fair one, and he wouldn't lose this one. He was too close. Had he not asked Alfred to pack up his evening wear or had he not hidden the Batmobile in an out of the way place such as the Metropolis Arts Center, who knows how much time he would have lost. Was it paranoia, and was it a good thing that he saved lives even when he knew in the big picture it was all just an absurd dream? A child's wonderland stunted in time to help cope with the reality of the situation where he was in fact a Pawn in this game of cards and Bird golf games? Was he a part of this too?

The Dark Knight slammed onto the gas, crushing out any diminishing factor that would slow him down. It was an ugly reality, and he was a part of it. He was chasing a butterfly without a net. With tactics, he could get it. With strategy, timing, and tactics, he could go in for the kill. Luck had nothing to do with it. He didn't believe in dumb luck. He didn't believe in that optimistic garbage that came out of Clark Kent's mouth. The Dark Knight pressed onto the pedal like his life depended on it. A speed demon racing down the roads which led to semi busy streets on parts of the outskirts, through small farmer's markets and through another round on the highway, it was a race against time. He was only breath's away. It would have been easier to just pounce on him.

"BLAST! Are they ready?" Tetch growled.

"We're almost there, Mr.Tetch!" His orderly in a Bear's hat replied looking up from his laptop. The two coordinates were joining closer together and the Dark Knight had better be ready for a change in the dance course.

On a lonely deserted field where it was the ideal spot to dump a body, indulge in pagan rituals or go for some hanky panky out of the way of town, the Mad Hatter's crew passed the narrow stretch of land. The lone and desolate atmosphere added to its mysterious allure which was ideal in keeping the deepest and darkest secrets from ever pouring out of its shell. A busy swamp which was rumored to house mutated crocodiles that were affected from Metropolis' nuclear tests and trial runs added to its supernatural touch. It was a sort of forbidden paradise to keep dirty laundry from ever seeing the light of civilized day.

From behind, the Mad Hatter could see two demonic looking eyes peer into the window, lights burning into the small dark corridor as if searching for any guilty parties.

"You there! Do get a leg up!" Tetch barked.

"Whatever," the Rabbit man replied.

The Batman could see that trademark hat peeking through the window, teasing him in a bullying manner, as if saying 'neener neener neener' or any childish retort that would dare insult his endurance. He could hear the engine roaring from the other vehicle, he could feel its purr vibrate, and he could smell that sweet gas that breeched his nostrils. Just a little further. Both cars zoomed past a set of two Swamp Chestnuts before the latter vehicle that would jerk and choke back, and shake any sense of security the Dark Detective had.

No

No!

NO!!

It felt like quick sand, worse, a tar pit. A thick viscosity held him back and he could see the white vehicle race away and drive out of sight. This wasn't happening, he was so close, he felt it, he could smell his first lead only to have it wither away into vapor out of sight and out of touch. He almost had it. He was cheated, again. First the Riddler and now the Mad Hatter played him for a fool, and only because he was slow. He didn't see the clues, he didn't see the nuances, and he failed to register to connect the dots. He failed. Idiot. You idiot you did it again! DAMN! The Batmobile roared as Bruce added pressure angrily to the gas, which only served to be counterproductive as it was tiring the vehicle. The only thing it did was splash mud behind it. The Batmobile cried loudly as Batman added yet another kick to the pedal, not wanting to believe that this was happening. It wasn't dumb luck, it wasn't a curse. This was all his fault and he failed miserably.

A loud snap was heard and in reaction to its strong choke-hold, the Batmobile was sent spinning out of its trap. The screeching of tires shrieked into the cold, dark night like a banshee foreseeing a tragedy. It's final breath dying out before giving off a breathy mist of smoke from the front. Batman growled loudly and kicked the dashboard of the car. This wasn't happening, this wasn't supposed to happen. Everything was so planned out, this wasn't six degrees off. This wasn't him, he was losing it. He was losing his mind.

That was foolish talk.

This was no time for licking wounds because that would only waste more time. The Batman got out of the vehicle to survey any damage which he would plan to remedy. He didn't think about either chasing the Mad Hatter after he was finished or go back home and put on the Bruce Wayne mask while the Joker lay possibly dying from his carelessness.

"Well, well, well, look who has come a courtin'..." Before he even opened up the cover, he was greeted by a siren call. He looked at the direction of where the voice came from. It was a woman, but she wasn't a local. From atop of the Swamp Chestnut tree, his worst thought was confirmed. With a hand over her hip and with the other resting on the trunk, Poison Ivy looked on victoriously at the Dark Knight's plight. She was like a lioness who had just settled eyes on her choice gazelle.

"Long time no see, Batman, how are things?" Pamela Isley crooned.

"You are not getting away with this, Ivy. I know about this intricate web you and your little friends are involved in." Batman said darkly, ready to pounce at a moment's notice.

"And what do you plan to do about it? Arrest me and put me in that slum to rot?" Ivy laughed a bitter low chuckle that reeked of dark sarcasm and rebellion. "This is bigger than me, Batman. This is bigger than both of us," Ivy declared, looking seriously at the Dark detective with burning rage. She wasn't one to be negotiated with. Only weak women made negotiations and compromises. She wasn't a delicate female, she was Pamela Lillian Isley, bio-terrorist extraordinaire. No woman could match her in beauty and no man could size up to her callousness.

"If you will cooperate with me, I will make sure that Arkham goes lighter on you," the Batman said hoarsely. Just merely exchanging words was like playing Russian Roulette, a deadly dance if one made the wrong move or didn't have any fall back plans. If Two Face was a coin, then Ivy was the Tarot. An infinite amount of possibilities arose with her in the game. Like the Joker, she was unpredictable, but she had her toys. She had gimmicks and the Batman studied them. There was a pattern and that was the only thing in his favor.

"And you think I am going to fall for that because...?" Ivy purred softly. With the help of the mutated Chestnut, she was lowered to the ground to meet the detective. It looked like a perversion of the Second Coming of Christ.

"Because I said so," The Batman spat back. There was no room for gray in this matter. She would come with him with or without a fight.

"You are so wound up, Batman...hows about a little kiss..." Poison Ivy cooed softly. She licked her dark green lips. Those poisonous barbs that could kill a man or make him feel like a god. They were a life force and their final undoing should they come into contact with them. Like a tigress' jaw, she could kill on contact or cradle men and take them to a far off place where only their dreams would touch.

"Go to Hell, Ivy!" The Batman spat and pushed her back, and she fell to the floor.

"You hurt me!" Ivy cried, looking up at the Batman with forest colored eyes that threatened to release tears. Crocodile tears. "I've already been to Hell, Batman! You have no understanding of the word until you see what you have been denied! To be denied the sun, nurturing, love!" Ivy called out and barely standing on her two legs. She looked weak like her legs were atrophied of any base. She looked like a broken puppet.

"I know Hell, Ivy. You are just a demon come to do your bidding!"

"BASTARD!" Ivy snarled. With long nails she made an attempt to strike the Batman. Green nails seethed into the kevlar and skin on Batman's face, exposing blood. The Dark Knight fell to the ground. Even though she looked delicate, Ivy had her own brand of superhuman strength, the kind that was administered to her puppet, Harley Quinn. She cut in deep, and the sting of the cold air combined with the possibility of poison in his blood stream inhibited him momentarily.

"I can offer you anything you want, Batman. I can give you anything your heart desires, if you'd just let me be and work my magic, I can save humanity, and Earth, including you!"

"But not before you kill off undesirables," the Batman hissed back. "I won't let that happen, Ivy. Utopia only exists in a book. Anything otherwise and you are just deluding yourself!"

Ivy scoffed at the suggestion.

"You call me deluded and yet you put on a mask every night? You tell me that is not delusional because you know as well as I do that should you be rid of me, someone else will come and take my place and give you ten times the Hell I am doing right now. I can offer you Paradise, Eden on Earth if you just let me be. Me, I embrace who I am, I am here to deliver the fruit of the Earth from what is destroying it and you are not helping!"

"You can start helping if you would tell me where the Scarecrow or Riddler are!" The Batman yelled. He was getting very tired of trading irreconcilable philosophies.

"Don't pester me, Batman! If I knew where they were I still wouldn't tell you!" She said walking towards him. Batman could tell she wanted to circle him.

"You are making this harder on yourself! Why Ivy?!" he protested.

"Because darling, I don't kiss and tell," Ivy said, looking mischievously vixenish at the Dark Knight. Her face was a sadistic smile of gross sociopathic pleasure. She was playing him for a toy.

"If you'd just cooperate, I will put in a good word for you! I will put in a word for Arkham to let you have a botanically friendly cell," the dark detective said desperately. Pathetic, making promises to a psychopath that he couldn't trust and much less keep. Was he that desperate to negotiate with a terrorist?

"You are so full of fertilizer, Batman!" Ivy spat. "Don't you realize you lost?"

Even underneath that pale green skin, Batman could tell there was a human heart beating inside, something that could appeal to her emotions. He tried so hard to come down to her level, to speak her language. If not Mad Hatter or Riddler than she...That was ridiculous thought. Here he was hog tied and trading jabs with a ruthless killer. It was the ultimate taboo. Still, she was a woman, and he knew there was a chance that he could try and appeal to her heart. He just had to. Was it even possible? If she had one weakness it was her garden, her plants, her children, but even she couldn't be swayed with the promise of a better environment to conduct her research. She did once. He remembered. Could he do it again? The seeds of doubt were eating him up inside and time was on the essence.

"Ivy, I don't want to hurt you, but you are making it very impossible for me to put down my guard," Batman said warningly. It was like negotiating with a rebellious teenager.

"Awwww, really? I feel the same way, darling..." Poison Ivy traced a finger on the side of Batman's injured cheek over the wound she inflicted. She stroked tenderly as if applying a healing cream on him. _Keep her in check_. "It's always like that, star crossed lovers and all. It all has this element of tragedy, don't you think?" Ivy crooned and clasped her hands together in prayer position.

"Now you are starting to sound like the Joker," Batman said quickly, hoping to get a poignant reaction from this. He didn't want to handle her on a human level anymore. That's not the way with criminal masterminds.

"Don't you EVER compare me to that sick bastard you son of a BITCH!" Ivy growled as she threatened to deliver another swipe from her claws. It was played as he wanted and the Dark Knight grabbed her wrist and added compression to the muscles, ceasing any more swift movement from her. The worst she could do was kick, but he had armor and an extra foot on her while she was nearly naked. With claw-like fangs dancing in front of his face, the Dark Knight made his move. Without a second's notice, the Dark detective landed a punch on the side of Pamela Isley's face and sent her crashing and rolling. Coughing, she acted as the stinging sensation swelled and beat on her jaw and cheek.

"Bastard!" She spat spit and blood.

"Ivy, don't do this!" Batman said solemnly, but before he could continue, he was hit upside the head with a stinging and burning pain that increased tenfold after the strike. It wouldn't take a wild guess where it came from. As the old nursery rhyme went, everywhere that Mary went...

"HEY RATMAN!" A high pitched trademark voice squeaked.

...the lamb was sure to follow.

As soon as he gained his administrations and concentration, the Batman glared at the direction of where he was hit. There, standing proudly with a ridiculously large mallet in her hands and holding it like a cane, he met the grinning menace he would come to associate with his worst enemy. Little did he know she would be a dark harbinger of things to come.

"Evening, Bats. Is that a batarang in your hand or are ya happy ta see me!" Harley Quinn retorted evilly, looking like a great white shark with that makeup.

"Quinn! Stay where you are!" Batman demanded.

"Uh uh uh, Batman, ya didn't say please!" Harley yawned and tossed a marble at his feet. Immediately, it released a purple gas that would suffocate his lungs and blind him momentarily in the midst of smoke.

"Tsk, tsk, it's like I said before, you don't know when to quit, do ya?" Harley replied before she blew a large bubble with the gum she was chewing. It was purple. Grape.

"QUINN! STOP! You don't know what you are doing!" Batman growled back at the red and black clad jester.

"Au contraire, Ratman. I know poifectly well, what I'm doin. Y'see, it really hurts me widdle feelins when ya don't believe in me!" Harley Quinn replied dementedly. That evil shark-like grin was never leaving his eyes.

"Then why are you doing this! STOP! You are doing out of anger! For attention!" The Dark Knight exclaimed. She was a little girl going after a dream, of fame, and she found it. She lived on a fantasy, a delusion, she teetered on that delicate balance and fell, but she was still more tangible than Poison Ivy.

"Whachu talkin about, Batman? I am perfectly fine with who I am. For years, I subscribed to society's rules, followed them, but ya know what, I felt constrained! I felt worse than how I do now in a straight jacket! Whaddasthat tell ta?" Harley replied.

"You are angry, Harleen, you can counteract that with more positive output!" The Batman said patronizingly.

"HA! Don't make me laugh! Ever since I met Mr. J, I've had a whole new perspective on life. I am now free as a bird! A freebird. You ever hear that song? I can now spread my wings because I am true to myself. I never felt comfortable following society's rules. Now, I'm my own woman!" Harley Quinn smiled proudly.

"No, you are a slave to your own emotions, Harley, can't you see that?" The very idea of actually conversing with Harley like this created a knot in the Batman's stomach. But still, this was a dangerous game and he had to play his cards right. There was a bigger hazard here than swimming in a swamp full of man eating crocodiles.

"You don't own me, Bats. No one understood me until my puddin' and Red here opened up my eyes. It's like having your vision corrected, or seeing things from a new perspective. It was like learning how to breathe. That's what I got from the Joker, something which you will never understand, Bats!" Harley Quinn said bitterly.

Truth of the matter was he did know what she was talking about. He felt that, but that was a different Joker. That was a different man, and she was doing it wrong. That was a bitter and angry Joker who couldn't communicate properly and she was modeling that outdated outlook. By projecting herself, she had a much distorted view of things. This was all a playground to her.

"I do understand, Harleen-"

"LIAR! You can't take away what's mine, Bats! I wrote a thesis on the man! Remember the one Doctor Ruth showed you. The Supersanity one! THAT WAS ME! MOI! I did all the hard work and did the math! You didn't count the independent variables or medians, it was me! My hard work!"

The clown girl quaked. Her body shaking, trying to control that bitter rage that swelled up inside of her. It was saying it in one ear and having it come out the other. No one was listening just because she had skeletons in her closet.

"Harley, stop...you don't need to do this..." Batman said desperately. If anyone could be saved, it was her. Everyone else, Two Face, Scarecrow, Riddler, Mad Hatter, Ivy, Catwoman...even the Joker, they were all in the Big Leagues. She was just a little girl playing house.

"YES I DO! It's the only way people will take me seriously!" She barked. "I hope you like your Christmas present, Bats. Yeah, it may not be Bat boxers, but it's the thought that counts, right?" With that, she removed the bottom part of the handle on her mallet to reveal a small compartment that housed another deadly weapon. Small darts and ready with poison. "Hanging with Red brought out the inner chemistry geek in me, so I was able to create somethin' new. Yeah, it wasn't perfume, but it has its uses. Now hold still, this might sting a little." She said as she aimed it in his direction. "I would have called it Dopamine surprise, but since this baby has ten times the inhibitors in a horse tranquilizer, I changed the name. DOPE A ME! WHACHA THINK?"

"QUINN! STOP!" Batman growled before leaping.

"HARLEY!" Poison Ivy screamed.

In a split second, Ivy pounced on the Batman, temporarily blinding him. Like a lion on a gladiator, Ivy scratched and bit at the Dark Knight, trying to distract him. He swung her as much as he could, but she held on fast, digging deeper into his armor, scratching at the thick rubber. She wrapped her arm around his neck, constricting his windpipe in order to disrupt any circuitry in his thinking process and make him fall or at least messy in his strategy and math.

"Hold still, Batman!" Harley quipped. Shakily she aimed her creation at the battling foes, but her struggling made the task all too impossible.

Like a gladiator with a wild animal on his back, the Batman struggled to keep his balance. He tried to get close to the nearest Chestnut Swamp tree. It was the closest thing that would provide the most pressure should he aim well. Even Ivy didn't seem to notice as she was too busy to tear through the kevlar and thick rubber.

"Goodness gwacious! On the left hand side we have 200 pounds of muscles and no brain, the BATMAN! And on the other corner we have 130 pounds of beauty and brains with a secret weapon that lies in her lips! Uh oh! Looks like the Vixen of Vines has the Dork Knight hog tied and that looks like one real painful noogie! Will the Fatman show us his one trick Hi Ya moves on us? We'll see after a word from our sponsers!"

Ivy grunted as she struggled to aim a deadly swipe of her claws into a delicate part of the Batman's body. She hissed and bit as much as she could to counteract anything that would work in his favor.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the Batman finally got his hands around Poison Ivy's small waist and got her writhing body off of his. Without hesitation, he threw her towards the Chestnut Swamp tree. It was the perfect aim to end such a battle. Grunting and exhausted, the Batman still hadn't figured out why this had all felt so anticlimactic, and it was until he saw Ivy's face and her hand did he understand why. Cackling, she wiped the blood away from her mouth, and brushed it against the tree, giving it newfound life and strength as she did so. The roots stretched and shrieked, like a baby being born. They grew thicker and laid themselves atop of the soil, shaking the land under all six 

feet. Smiling maliciously, Ivy licked the blood on her face and rubbed her poisonous hemoglobin to the tree, applying it with more of her life giving blood.

"Grow my baby, grow for mommy!" Ivy proclaimed with pride. She waved her arms in ecstasy, at seeing her magic work.

In the midst of the peril, the possessed tree took a root and applied itself around Batman's ankle, taking the Dark Knight with it ten feet above the ground. Dangling, the Batman struggled to free himself from the grasp, but its grip only closed in tighter and constrained his muscles. The shaking had ceased, but that still didn't stop the Dark Knight's anxieties. The two women got closer to the struggling caped crusader.

"Ooooh, look Red! A pinata! Just what I always wanted for my birthday!" Harley giggled maliciously while Poison Ivy looked on with pride. The two femme fatales encircled themselves around the Dark Knight. They looked like vultures. Harley Quinn had a bat in her hand and balanced herself in _contrapposto_ position on it.

"So whaddowedo, Red? Leave him hanging like this until the blood rushes to his brain and then WHAM!?" Harley gestured with her hands sans instrument.

"Mmmm, why not? He can have help from his birdies. I'll get the stuff ready," Ivy said reassuringly and went back to their car, ROSEBUD and began preparing their getaway. Harley Quinn, meanwhile studied the Bat, meeting his face on the same plane only half way.

"Ya know, Bats, me 'n you, we coulda been the best 'a friends. But you had to go an' be a bully! Gee, do you police people even when they pick their noses in private?"

"Quinn...no...Har-Harley--"Batman coughed. Bruised and bleeding and with blood rushing to his head, the Batman felt weaker by the second.

"Sorry, Bats. I trusted ya once." Harley said solemnly. The look reminded him of when she first realized the Joker was using her. "But believe me, this is gonna hurtcha more than it is me!"

Even upside down, the Batman could see the aim coming from a mile away.

A loud THWACK distracted Poison Ivy from her administrations and turned to the source of the commotion. She turned and saw it. The child of her genius. Her baby. Her baby as hitting the Batman with...what else, a bat!

THWACK

The blow knocked any remaining sense and stability the Dark Knight had. Even after being violently mauled by Ivy and shaken by a giant tree, it wasn't as painful or humiliating as this.

"That was for playing me like a fool, Bats!"

A second strike broke his septum and bone on the right side of his face. His bruises became swollen.

"That was for manhandling Red!" Harley Quinn hissed, but that wasn't the end of it. The last and most painful blow felt like a rush. All the wind knocked out. His breathing became even more labored. He struggled less. His breaths were more shallow and slow. He was bleeding now and he swore that he heard the back of his cranium crack.

"And that was for coming between me and my puddin!" Harley hissed. She spat at the Batman's face and tossed the bat angrily into the car.

"Gee, Harl. That was hardcore!" Poison Ivy said admiringly.

"Eh, don't sweat it, Red. I needed a displacement subject for my anger management and he was convenient."

"Not bad, Harl," Red responded. Her little girl was finally graduating to full fledged psychopath. She felt like a proud mother.

"Yeah, yeah, let's make like a banana and split." Harley Quinn huffed. She looked almost as if she was disgusted and angry with herself.

"You got it," Poison Ivy responded. On that note, the two women zoomed out of sight. It would be hours before the Batman regained enough consciousness to wake up from his stupor and cut himself from the mutated plant. Ivy's powers were only temporary, fortunately. When he landed on the ground, he felt as if he had done more damage to his body. He was in a delicate state and he had to get home soon. The Batmobile fortunately light up and roared with life when he started the ignition. Dizzy, broken and even more confused, the Batman made his trek back home with even less than what he started, but that didn't hurt as much as the torn muscles and dislocations that plagued his body at the moment.

_Why am I doing this, you ask? Because I am so tired of seeing Harley Quinn as this brainless masturbation toy for the Joker. This chapter as well as the rest of the story will be dedicated to the loving memory of Heath Ledger who was taken from us to soon. Here's to a very talented actor, father, and charismatic man who will forever live on in his works. See you on the other side, buddy. In memoriam, I will be at the movie premiere with my LedgJoker shirt on July 18th 2008. _


	26. Trouble Me

Author's note: Hello everyone. Please excuse the tardiness, but these last two months have drained me academically, spiritually, and emotionally. My English classes basically felt like being in a surgeon's working space with limited resources, but the worst blow came when four of my cockatiels died within days of each other. A week later, my baby of 8 years, Jake succumbed to an illness after his mate, Laurie died. He sadly became a casualty of the opportunistic bacteria that took advantage of the stress on his body which made him wither away. That was this on Sunday March 23rd at 8:03PM, and I am still a bit heartbroken but that still doesn't mean I have forgotten about you, kiddos. It's just that real life decided to hold my muse for hostage, but I got her back. Again, I do apologize for any inconvenience and I thank those who left their kind words. Believe me when I say that writing this story is like playing chess. You have to think about when to make your move ten steps ahead and see and wonder if that angle can affect another layer in the story. That's my little secret and it does me great pleasure to pass on that knowledge to you. I hope the wait was worth it for you, because I really wanted to make it an extra special one.

Disclaimer: DC owns. I don't. Don't sue

Pairing: The Dark Knight and the Clown Prince

Rating: M for mature themes: violence, language, sexual themes

Genre: Romance, psychological, drama, noir, action

Recommended readings: The Game We Play, Throwaway Card,

**Unbeta'd. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. See end note. **

"I'll take American lit for 200, please Alex"

CLICK

"Big money! Big money!"

CLICK

"But Edith, ye gotta keep ye voice down cuz we are incognitus!"

"OH! ARCHIE!"

CLICK

"My, my, how droll. What garbage," Joker sighed to himself as he channel surfed on the large screen set before him. The Bat computer was temporarily being used as a a TiVo device. Bruce had shown him earlier what buttons to press which would take him to settings and the menu bar, and since he didn't want

the Clown to start any mischief while he was gone, he let him have a few hours on the boom tube while his secret files were cryptically kept in a password protected file.

"Ohhhh, " Joker said to himself as he gazed up at the menu while taking a quick bite of his air popped kettle popcorn, prepared generously by Alfred, Bruce's right hand man. He had noticed that the special: Caligula: Reign of Madness would air at the same time as his favorite drama on soapnet.

"Phooey, this makes cable TV at Arkham look like preschool!" Joker grumbled and made himself comfortable. At the asylum, he was allowed no more than two hours a week of TV on account of his antics. Kiss ups like Harley or boring ones like Calendar Man got more hours in the recreation room. He never saw eye to eye on Harley and why she liked mundane things like Friends or American Idol. Those things had the affect of junk food, all fat, which were the cliché's and no substance, which was the fluff. When he wasn't in the TV room, he would doodle on his walls to keep his mind occupied. But as soon as he would leave and come back from a routine, he would find his works washed away. Devalued, defiled, and deserted. Everything he did had an undertone to it. It wasn't done for anything deeper than face value, it just was. He did it to create, to feel.

He was about to adjust the contrast of the monitor when he was suddenly distracted by the sound of screeching wheels and the shrieks of winged rodents overhead. It shook the Prince like a small quake, what the Devil….?

Just then, a sleek black vehicle zoomed into vision, snapping at the Prince's attention, making him drop his snack bowl to the ground by his feet. Bruce... already home? The Prince pondered. He was amused at the apparent speed in which the midnight black car sped into the cave like some rabid wild animal. Somebody's glad to be home, The Joker said to himself. Loud hissing and heat gave off from the vehicle which now stood dead still. There was something eerie about its sudden still fullness, like it had the life sucked out of it at the moment. Dead silence followed suit. He journeyed towards the sleek black car that was still giving off a thin mist of heat from its midnight round e vous. Joker's forest green eyes eyed it like a jack in the box because he of course, wanted the prize inside. Pale white hands attached themselves onto the black glass.

"Yoohoo," Joker crooned. "You're home early; did you miss me, darling?" Joker repeated himself again. A self satisfactory smile crept upon his face, waiting for a grumble in response but none came. That was odd, knowing his Bat he would immediately get onto the next task. He hated wasting time unless he decided, the Joker thought, to take a nap. He then peeked inside the black colored glass windows. Their mysterious and bleak hue hinted at a deeper secret that was hinted when the Joker didn't get a response as quickly as he would have liked. If Batman came home this fast, why didn't he get out already? It was not like him to waste so much precious time. He knew that. Even during their previous escapades before all this, he never hesitated to take his time.

It was so unlike him, unless something was terribly wrong. A sharp pinch was felt in the Prince's stomach and he gulped down the nervousness with more verbal activity.

"Bats?" Joker tapped lightly onto the glass. He did not like the sound of this somber silence. It was vacant, hollow, and dead. He didn't like those thoughts and proceeded to look for a response. This wasn't a trick, this was different and Joker did not like it one bit, but out of desperation, he tried one more time. He hated going to that dreadful place, and making a joke would mitigate it.

"Playing hide and seek, are we?" Joker said optimistically. Still, there was nothing. At this point, desperation crept onto his face as he worriedly tried looking for any light that could seep through the dark recesses of the car in hopes that it would reveal the painful secret it carried. Something was definitely wrong. The eerie silence worried him. What he once thought of as a dare to move and would tickle his funny bone was now troubling the Clown Prince. He was helpless and try as he might, he could not do much. The silence was broken when the sound of broken glass from the other side of the vehicle startled him, which made him jump in response.

The broken glass was like the sound of promising breath, he was alive, but his optimism would be short lived. When the Clown Prince made his way towards the side of where the broken glass lay, he was greeted with the sound of door breaking out of its hinges, behind it, a bruised and broken Dark Knight poured out of his shell, looking war torn and disheveled. The Dark Knight was beaten from battle and was weak. In his entire career as a criminal mastermind, Joker could not lay claim to such a grand example of scarring. He was taken aback at the damage.

"B-Batman?" Joker said. Horror was waxing in his eyes. A black glove reached up and pulled at the color of his lavender robe, pulling him closer. The Joker went down on his knees and grabbed onto Bruce's hands both as support and as consolation. What could have done such a thing? The Clown wondered in bitter anger.

"The narrows…..Quinn…Ivy," he coughed laboriously.

"Harley…?" The Joker said suspiciously. He made a mental note to feed that girl her lungs whether she had something to do with this or otherwise. That girl was always fucking up somewhere, as if killing Batman wasn't bad enough, this one sorely takes the cake.

It was not until that the detective looked up that Joker got a really good view of the damage that was done. A bruised lip, a swollen cheek and a bad eye were the tip of the ice berg. He was like a broken marionette. His body had barely any balance and he was too weak to stand on his own two feet. He then leaned on the Joker and used him as a support base.

"…medicine….third cabinet…Alfr.."

"Of course, of course," the Joker shushed reassuringly. He guided the Dark Knight to his table where his collection antidotes and scientific notations lay. It was the longest walk for the both of them, for the Joker who was 1/3 the size of his former arch adversary, barely prodded on and gently nudged the injured man in a gentle fashion. He did not want to rush him out of fear of

breaking any more bones or affecting his delicate condition. Batman's legs felt like goo as he struggled to maintain composure. He leaned down on the Joker, trying not to crush him with his weight.

The Clown Prince responded with added pressure, making them both stand up. He pressed a thin palm on the Batman's signature bat symbol, providing as a sort of support system and as a sort of reminder that he was there, helping him and reminding him that he was not going anywhere. He took to forced steps ahead only to stop again to take a breath.

The entire Joker wanted to do was sit there on the floor with him and nurse him back to health in his own way. He wanted to cradle him in his arms, to let him rest and not give him any more hell with this trip. But he knew that it could not be this way and carry on. Bruce wouldn't want it like that, not while he had that fighting chance. The Prince aided him during those last few steps before Batman took a few more steps forward and collapsed onto a nearby chair. The Caliph of Clowns watched in astonishment at the Batman's stamina. It was obvious that his muscles and insides were aching and before he dared ask, he was quickly rebutted by an order.

"Get Alfred, don't touch anything!" Batman spat. For a moment, Joker hesitated. What was he supposed to do, just sit there like nothing and let the old man do everything?

"Batman, I-"

"GO!" The Dark Knight roared. He grabbed an ice pack and pressed it deeply onto his aching skin.

The Prince turned around; a sore lump carried itself in his throat.

_I just want to help. Don't you trust me?_

The Clown Prince took one more look back at his Dark Knight who now settled himself onto the makeshift table, ready for any necessary and painful administrations. Why didn't he trust him? He could read a label, spoke perfect English and even created his own little potions. Was it because he didn't want that moment of intimacy broken by an intruder, even if it was someone Bruce knew?

"Joker!" Bruce demanded, voice sounding more like a roar than human.

"Um, Alfred? Alfred!" Joker called out. The door was locked shut, no doubt to prevent any more fun like what he did in the kitchen last time. Damn paranoid old git, didn't he know that the boy he raised was in serious danger? Suddenly, with a set of fresh adhesives and medical aid, a skinny old English gentleman walked in, looking confidently as he made his way towards his Master. Joker was astonished at his seeming indifference. He reminded himself that this was his job, but he couldn't help but feel a little bit disgusted with the old man's look of apathy even as he administered the first of several treatments on his Master's bruised and broken body.

"Oh, dear," Alfred Pennyworth said with a hint of mild surprise. The Prince was astonished and angry at the chronic apathy displayed by the butler, but he reminded himself that this was routine. My God, what other horrors had he witnessed and by HIS hand? The Prince stood a few feet behind the old man, watching him attentively as he progressed with his work. Bruce in the meantime, proceeded to remove himself of his kevlar armor, starting with his mask, his belt, batsuit and finally, the spandex underneath to just his underwear. He was just Bruce Wayne, the human inside the Bat, and he was in dire need of aid. It wasn't until he was stripped down that Joker got a bird's eye view of what had transpired:

Scars emblazoned themselves onto Batman's skin, looking like war tattoos. Joker studied the battle scars immensely, both taken aback and admiring them, but he was mostly repulsed. He had endured so much, and by his hand, at one time. His robes were nothing more than dregs, skin that rotted off and died. These weren't scars that one could look in awe, they were fatal ones that could have taken him away in a breath's notice. Joker noted a deep cut just above the stomach. It was not exactly fresh, but it would take a long time to recover. It looked suspiciously like a claw mark, from a cat and not a reptile by the look of it. A Cat. A woman. Joker seethed with anger and did his best to look friendly for the butler, for he didn't want to be punished and get sent to the corner. That was not the only decoration, apparently.

It was a neat gash that pierced folds of skin, breaking the dermis that most likely infected the wound laced on Bruce's body for it was close to another one that was cleanly cut across his arm. A deep gash that more than likely broke skin and took out a chunk of muscle. It was a hook. What made it so painful to watch was that he remembered that cut, because he was the perpetrator. He gave birth to that design. It was a trophy of his once proud self. Now, it was just a tattered reminder of who he once was, a person he didn't want to know any more. That Joker was a monster. Bruce lay down onto the makeshift table. Alongside it was a table fit for a surgeon complete with alcohol, cotton, wet towels, and other medical adhesives required to take care of burns, cuts, and injured bones.

"Heavens sir, it is a miracle you followed my advice and to take that calcium," the butler said gently as he wiped a sharp utensil with a clean wipe.

"Shut up, Alfred," Bruce responded.

"Yes, sir," replied abruptly. "Should you decide to rest your eye, do tell me that you are not cavorting with Morpheus by telling me in Morse?"

"Wouldn't dream of it," Bruce interjected. He readied himself to be prodded and wiped and turned himself over to his side. His insides ached from all the excessive force by Ivy's creations. Deep gashes pinched at his senses. At worse case, he suffered fractures that would require some time, but he was not yet sure of any broken bones yet. He was still able to walk but just barely. He couldn't be bedridden for long. People needed him. Joker needed him. He barely noted the tall, thin silhouette of the Clown Prince who stood a few feet behind his

butler. He was barely able to acknowledge him, so he only stared in the general direction. He had to keep his focus and to try not going to sleep. The Prince surveyed the damage with a caring eye.

Alongside the fresh cuts on Bruce's biceps and thigh, Joker looked on tenderly as Alfred administered the alcohol. It broke the Clown's heart to see that there was nothing he could do to quell the hurt as the salty iodine burned into the cuts. Bruce gritted his teeth direly as he sought to control the burning sensation that invaded his body.

Joker looked away in disgust, but not as the cuts, but at himself. ..and at Harley. He made a note to kill that girl and feed her head to her two pet hyenas as soon as possible. The Joker touched the bridge of his nose, trying to compose himself in front of the third wheel. He hated seeing him like this, helpless as a newborn baby, and here he was just standing there wasting air and space. Perhaps, he could make himself useful.

"Is there anything, I can do?" The Prince prodded on nervously, standing adjacently from the butler. He stood looking over from Bruce's left side while the Joker looked from the edge of the table.

"I'm afraid that there is very little you can do," the butler said assertively while wiping a bloodied utensil with an apron. He did not want a repeat of the fiasco in the kitchen even if the Clown was on his best behavior. No funny business. It was not until that he turned around to clean some of the medical supplies that Joker made his move. Standing over the playboy, he brushed his hand against the soft black hair. The touch awoke Bruce from his light slumber. Deep sea blue eyes met the green ones above him.

"So, what kind of lie are you going to tell those media watchdogs when they come a callin'?" Joker crooned.

"Racing," Bruce cough. Joker shushed him.

"Is it that bad?" Joker said in a low pitched voice. It was something hearing it in that low tone, it was almost human.

"I'll live," Bruce replied. His demeanor was seemingly in a batter place and his breathing got better.

"I can get more out of a weekly horoscope," Joker said bitterly. "Where does it hurt more?" Bruce grunted.

"My neck," he said finally. Joker surveyed the damage, but there was more than the eye could see. It was internal, so he did what he had to do.

"There…?" Joker said softly. He held Bruce's neck upright and massaged it gently. He could not imagine how much it hurt or what damage was done. He held the base of Batman's skull in his

palms. His thumbs brushed themselves across his temples. They were soft hands, very tender and they focused themselves rather professionally, like an artist. He never realized how silky they were too. Bruce relaxed himself as they did their magic.

When Alfred returned from his duty, he barely noticed the slight. As long as it kept Master Bruce out of pain, that is all that mattered to him.

"That's perfectly acceptable. Not too roughly, but just enough to keep him at bay." The butler added.

"Please, I know what I am doing," Joker huffed. He hated being told what to do. What he hated more was being told what to do by a lackey, and a third wheeler no doubt.

"I am only telling you this for the Master's own benefit," Alfred huffed lowly.

"I know Jeeves, but don't you think I don't know how to be gentle?" The Clown Prince sneered.

"Just keep him there while I administer the final shots," Alfred said administratively. Joker barely nodded in attention and kept massaging the temples of the resting Dark Knight who lay cradled in his hands.

"This will only hurt a little," Joker said softly into Bruce's ear.

"That's the biggest lie I ever heard, especially coming from you."

The Prince didn't know whether to be insulted or pleased, but he decided to keep his amusement of Bruce making quips to a minimum. He turned Bruce's head over to let the butler administer one last shot into his system. It was a cocktail of antibiotics mixed with a small dose of painkillers.

"There, we should let him rest now," Alfred said gently to the Clown Prince.

"That's okay, Alfred," Bruce interjected.

"But honestly, sir, you do need your rest," Alfred protested.

"I lost a promising lead that led me to Mad Hatter, Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy, do you think I can just sleep on it?" Bruce growled. A familiar dark pitch was seeping into his psyche. Not now, no. He didn't deserve it. He was just disgusted with himself that it came out that way. It was either that or the fact that he still wanted to hold onto that secret.

"If you insist," the butler said. "I shall proceed with making you a sandwich."

"No need, I have lost my appetite." Bruce said bitterly. He took a gulp from a glass of water. Joker stood between them, oblivious to the tense situation but still doing nothing.

"Indeed, sir," Alfred Pennyworth said finally. He collected his items and compiled them neatly into the first aid container before taking one last look. Miraculously, the Master was able to stand on his own two feet and stagger before gaining full control of his stride towards the large computer. Immediately, he tapped onto a few keys and began an extensive search on some leads. He was as stubborn as an ox, some would say, but he is passionate. He didn't notice the angry glare of the Clown prince who eyed him suspiciously until the doors that led up to the main hall of the Mansion were shut behind him. With folded arms, he turned towards the studious Dark Knight, watching him scribble down notes and click on links. He was so overworked, sleepless and tired, he imagined, no wonder he was so wound up. He didn't even let himself go in front of his surrogate father and yet, they way they had been communicating these past few days, would he give him that chance? Did he have the power to do it? The Prince trotted towards the Dark Knight and stopped a few feet away from him.

"Find anything interesting?" Joker yawned.

"I found a lot; I just need to predict the next moves." Bruce replied.

"Moves?" Joker replied curiously.

"Yes," Bruce said in a mildly angry tone. He did not like being distracted from work. He found it more annoying and irritating than the sound of Harley Quinn's voice.

"Okay, okay, you don't have to get so gruff, I am not stupid you know." Joker said assertively.

"I can't be casual about these sorts of things like you, Joker. I had three leads and it all blew up in my face. Do you think it would be strawberry fields after all this?"

"Fine, fine, but do stop treating me like a child, it gets so annoying!" Joker responded.

"Maybe if you'd stop it with all the questions and stop wasting my time, I will!" Bruce said gruffly, by this time, he set his pen down and stared ahead at the Joker. The Prince stood facing against him in a rival fashion with his arms across his chest, daring him to make the next move.

"So that's it, I am just a waste of time? Well, then, why don't you save us the stress and be done with it?" Joker retorted angrily.

"Be done with what?" Bruce counteracted. He hated it when Joker spoke cryptically, it usually meant something dangerous.

"What are you, pigheaded? Why don't you just be rid of me and save yourself the stress! If I bother you that much, then why don't you just save it?" The Clown Prince replied hotly. Why wasn't this man so direct with him? He did not want to have to spell things out for him when it didn't require a brain surgeon.

"I did not mean that, Joker. I meant that your childish retorts were distracting me. You are not a waste of time."

Joker huffed.

"If I am not, then why do you keep putting yourself up to these things? I only do you more harm than anything else." The Mogul of Mountebanks said in a low tone of voice. He turned around to hide the shame that was slowly creeping up on his face. "To be frank, I am surprised you haven't taken me out and shoot me like a lame dog if I cause you this much trouble."

Bruce Wayne digested the words. This was not a guilt trip for nothing; he had the answers but poor planning and distractions got in the way. It was poor planning on his part. He was careless.

"You know I won't do that," Bruce said somberly. He got closer to the Joker.

"Then why do you keep doing it? Why do keep punishing yourself with all this?" Joker prodded on.

"It's not punishment, it's….work." Bruce replied with hesitation. It was more than a job, it was a lifestyle. It was something that he had grown accustomed to despite its shortcomings and few rewards. He couldn't break out of that cycle because it was all that he knew. "Somebody has got to do it."

"So, I am just a lab rat taking part in all your experiments? I am just a test and not a person?" Joker pushed on.

"Did I say that? You don't always have to jump to that level, Joker."

"Then, let me hear you say it. Why don't you and why do you keep yourself locked away. I know you are hurting. Why don't you share with me?" Joker begged. Batman huffed. It was like talking to a three year old. There was no bargaining, either with the Joker or himself because he knew why he was bottling things up: it was because he was ashamed. He was ashamed of falling, ashamed of failing, and ashamed of being discovered. He couldn't walk away with a swish of the cape, it was all barren here. It was his sacred space. He felt that his secret space was being violated.

"I told you, already. I am not as loquacious as you are. You are not an experiment."

"Then what is it! What happened tonight?"

"Too much."

"I have all the time, I am not going anywhere." Joker shot back.

"You know the story, I don't want to have time to repeat myself over petty things!" Bruce stated angrily

"Petty? You were almost killed!"

"It happens," the playboy replied.

"You're too vague. I don't like that." Joker said in a voice laced with venom. "I don't like that one bit." The Joker placed himself in front of the Batman who towered over him like a shadow. Even without his evening wear, he still had this air of control, even if it was minimized. Perhaps it was a front for the delicate rumblings on the inside. He didn't like being left out in the cold, he had to know, every detail, every morsel. He just wanted to hear him speak to him, to communicate, to at least acknowledge him instead of ignoring him. It wasn't about finding the juicy bits like you find in those cheap women's magazines, he just wanted to talk. He wanted to hear his voice acknowledge his.

"Not one bit," Joker said bitterly.

"Don't push me on it, Joker. You're sick and-"

"STOP TRYING TO DODGE THE QUESTION! IT ISN'T ME WE ARE TALKING ABOUT!" The Prince shrieked. "IT'S YOU! I don't care what happens to me! What is done is done, but that will not let me enjoy spending the last of my days with you in vain. I know who I am and I know what I have done. I just want you…to open up to me. To trust me…." The Joker sighed heavily. The words stung the playboy because they pierced at a delicate protective layer and touched his soul. It was truth that reached the inner corridors of his mind, and for a man who based his lives on secrets, double takes, and mystery, it twisted his gut. He couldn't disappear into the shadows this time because there were none. Only the Joker was there, waiting, willing, and wanting.

"You are not going to die, I will get to the bottom of this and I will find you a cure. I would have found it sooner if I wasn't distracted."

"There you go again! You fully admit that I am just taking up space from your work! I wish you would stop lying to me and readily admit it. I'm a full grown, I can take it."

"Your immature behavior makes it next to impossible sometimes, Joker. Believe me when I say that our time together has been…. eye opening, to say the least." He began and placed a hand on his shoulder. The Prince noted the gesture but kept his attention focused on those brilliant deep set baby blues.

"I'm the immature one? You're the rude one who won't even answer a simple question! I know about your family history Bruce, I know about that little boy who lost mommy and daddy that fateful night, I know all about you and Kitty cat, oh, and let's not forget that little tryst with Daddy's little Princess. What more do you have to hide, why are you so ashamed? You think I haven't heard it all before, Bruce?"

It was both a weight being lifted off his shoulders and a sad reminder that he was cornered because he was free to open up, but did not want to. Like Swift, he had these self imposed chains. He did not want to take them off despite having every right to. It was like denying oneself air. God, what kind of sick mind is that?

"It's the only way I can cope," Bruce added.

"How? By bottling it all up? Have you seen Harv, Bruce?"

"Not like that. I focus my energies on other outlets, I guess is what I am trying to say. I don't recall the last time I ever opened up myself to someone because they already knew. I never met anyone who asked with gusto as much as you did. It's…..different." Bruce said gently. He felt a little better because he admitted out loud what it really felt like.

"Different? Good kind of different or bad kind?" Joker prodded on. Bruce placed a hand on his chin to get his attention.

"Just different. It's relieving in its own way…"

"You make it sound like a urinal, but I accept," Joker said warmly. He patted the large hand on his shoulder. "I just wish you didn't bottle yourself up. Otherwise you just blow up at any small thing…"

"I'm not used to it, is all."

"Well then, we have to think of a new strategy." Joker then tiptoed and kissed the Bat on his cheek.

"All better now?" Joker purred.

"A little," Bruce replied while touching the area Joker just touched. It was a little reminder that not everything needed to have a secondary undertone, it just was. A kiss, it was a simple form of affectionate expression.

"What are you going to do now? I can't imagine that being hunched over like that for the next six hours will do you any good. Doctor Joker says so."

"No, I suppose not."

Joker then went behind the playboy to administer some massages on his upper back and neck area.

"I think a little TLC is in order, don't you agree?"

It felt heavenly, feeling Joker's crafty hands touch him in a slow, rocking manner. They made him temporarily forget about the pain that pounded at his body. The tingles replaced the aches and stings on his arms and thighs.

"Sure," the playboy responded.

"Why don't we make ourselves more comfortable?" Joker nodded and tugged the reluctant Batman towards the bed. "You don't have to do anything, I will take care of it."

Batman's walking had gotten sturdy and balanced which was great news for the Prince who excitedly pulled the playboy towards the large canopy bed on the other side of the cave where they slept. When they got there, the Prince crawled in first and sat on his legs. He gestured for the Dark Knight to join him by patting the sheets.

"Get on," he said sweetly. With that order, the detective crawled over and laid down on the bed, face up so that he could see the Joker.

"Comfy?" The Clown piped up.

"Quite, what are you doing?" Bruce inquired when he saw Joker go out of focus.

"I'm just getting some things, dearest. Your butler left these supplies and it would be a real shame to let them go to waste." Joker replied when he showed Bruce two bottles that more than likely had some cream or oil in them.

"Oh?" Bruce said with a worried glance. "What are those?"

"Acid. What does it look like?" The jester said gleefully. "Now just relax and…"

"I think I'm feeling another one." Bruce interjected quickly.

"Really? Where?" Joker queried. His hooked nose was barely gracing Bruce's face.

"On my back, lower down," Bruce groaned.

"Okey doke, then we'll start there." Joker smiled.

"You are so determined." Bruce said smiling.

"It's what I do best, dear." Joker replied as he set down the supplies on the bed and gestured for Batman to turn around, which he did. Once on his stomach, Bruce stretched himself out more to get comfortable. He felt the Joker sit on the curve of his backside and he tensed mildly at the sensation.

"Ssssshhh, just relax." Joker said gently. He began to apply some of the lotion into his hands, rubbing them thoroughly before the cream dissolved into a shimmering glimmer in his hands. He

then proceeded to rub his hands across Bruce's back. Slow, sensual strokes calmed Bruce down and he let his muscles break free from their stiffness.

"Shh, that's it. Let all that pressure go. Loosen up that suit and tie," Joker whispered as he leaned down the playboy's ear and let hot air invade it. He smiled sadistically as he did so.

"Mmmmmm," was the response Bruce could give. It felt Godsend. The aches and pains from Ivy's attack were getting minimal. Going, going….

Joker smiled at himself, he had the little bat in the palm of his hand now, literally. Don't stop. That's it. That's right.

It wasn't until he saw another scar, clean across the left shoulder blade that Joker applied the touches in a softer manner. He was gentle and slow, for each touch was as intimate as the last. He then began to apply slow steady pressure on parts of Bruce's back, thumbing.

"That feels good," Bruce replied.

It was the most rewarding phrase Joker ever heard since they were shacked up together in the cave. Finally... acceptance. He dared not to stop.

"A little lower," Bruce ordered. Joker followed suit and did as he was told. He now focused on the upper pelvic area. He pinched and prodded at a few places, getting a firm pressure each and every time.

"That tickles," the playboy said. It was music to the Joker's ears.

"I won't believe you until I get at least one HA HA," Joker added. No response. Wow.

"Since when did you become so…..crafted?" Bruce groaned. The pains were practically nonexistent at this point. It was bliss. All those worries, those secondary thoughts, they were temporarily ignored.

"Hmmm? Oh, well, you do see this quite often during Days of Our Lives and All My Children. But really, I did learn some…tricks from Harley," The Harlequin added.

"So, she wasn't as, for lack of a better word, disposable?" Bruce quipped.

"Hmmm? Well, she was a cute kid, but really, I just couldn't take her seriously enough. Ah, stealing other people's shticks. Indeed. What a cheap shot. She's like one of those greasy burgers at McDonald's. You just can't live off of it. Oh, sure you might enjoy it, but that is all it can offer."

"Hmmm," Bruce replied.

"I don't get that from you, you know that right?"

Bruce perked up.

"I was so dependant our chance encounters that I had to see you. I used the most extreme means to get your attention obviously." Joker sighed.

"You're not the only one with extreme issues. I let the most beautiful woman go all because of my selfish needs. How sick is that?" Bruce turned over with an eye gazing up at Joker behind him. It was another connection and another parallel.

"That's pretty sick." The jester replied back.

Then, without warning, Bruce turned over, not caring if Joker was going along for the ride. Joker balanced himself on the bed and stretched himself out to meet Bruce's gaze, eying him at an equal level. They both stared at each other for a long minute.

"What?" Joker said with a pleasurable gleam. "Don't stare, it's impolite."

"Sorry," Bruce responded. He patted the moss of green on Joker's head.

"Are you going to tell me something or are we going to be like this all night? I do get cramps, you know…."

"I'm just…thinking…" the playboy said dreamily

"About?" The Prince queried.

"Everything, life, the next board meeting, Scarecrow, you…." A thin white finger pasted itself onto Bruce's lips, silencing them.

"Don't talk about menial things like that. It's just us now." Joker reassured him.

"It's just that I can't help it. It's like a habit."

"A bad habit," Joker added. "C'mon, is there anything I can do to make it better?" Joker laid himself on top of Bruce eying him like prize prey. He was all his now, it was just them.

"I can't think of anything at the top of my head," Bruce Wayne said bashfully. His face contorted into one of childish gentility. Force of habit made him hold onto Joker's legs.

"I think I have an idea, just stay down and relax….." Joker whispered as he wiped a white hand across the other man's face. He petted him like a small animal in a cold chill.

"I've been trying to do that…" Bruce stated shyly.

"Liar, I can feel your pulse jump. Loosen up." Joker purred. He pressed himself lower to meet the Bat's gaze. A sinful smile met Bruce's bashful glance.

"What are you doing?" Joker said shyly.

"Just….thinking..." Bruce said softly. The truth was that there was more going on in his mind. He just didn't want to let it out. Privacy was his sacred haven; it's where he felt safe because he answered to no one. Now, he was sharing that space.

"Well, stop it. You have a mouth. Just share it," Joker said sweetly.

"Easy for you to say. You can't stop talking…."

"And you don't like speaking in multisyllables!" Joker interjected. "I'm not asking about what you are thinking…..just…..tell me…how you feel. If Batman doesn't feel, then Bruce Wayne does, am I right?" Joker held that face between the palms of his hands.

"Hit the nail on the head," Bruce responded. He held onto the Prince's thin thighs even more firmly.

"Just…talk to me. Forget about the Queen of Weeds. Just let yourself go…."Joker pressed on.

Joker could feel the muscles tense on the body of the man below him. He shriveled up and it frustrated him to no end. He knew that Bruce was a man of privacy, but he could tell that he had bottled himself up. This was not strong and silent, this was repressed and he sought to remedy that.

"Well, if you don't want to make amends and take the first step, I will," and on that note, the jester leaned down and pressed his lips onto the man below him. They were both suspended in disbelief. Thoughts raced in the back of Bruce's mind as he felt those tender lips pressed onto his own. Joker leaned down to press his body against his. However, he was stopped short when he felt Bruce's massive hands press onto his arms. Joker responded by adding more pressure to the kiss. A low growl emerged from him. He counteracted by pressing his knee down and by adding pressure from his hips onto Bruce's. The playboy responded to the rather aggressive move by placing a hand on Joker's thigh. Even with soft strokes, Joker wouldn't but it and he broke the kiss.

"You're not playing fair!" Joker shrieked.

"What?" Bruce answered. "If I wanted it to get to this, I would have been clear."

"You didn't seem to mind when I was on top of you!" Joker growled.

"I wasn't in the mood to be rude," Bruce counteracted.

"Yes, well, this one takes the cake. It's painfully obvious to me that you need to open up, but you won't even let me do it! What am I supposed to think when you toy with me like this?"

"Maybe you are moving a little too fast. Maybe you should slow down a bit…" Bruce replied lowly.

"I am tired of all these ambiguities. When you have given me an iota of maturity, you know where to find me!" Joker huffed. He lifted himself up from where he was and crawled over to one side of the bed, pulling sheets up towards him.

"Good night!" Joker hissed.

Bruce stood there, drained, embarrassed and sterile. He didn't need another person angry at him because he had enough of that by self imposing it. He watched Joker struggle to make get comfortable.

This was new ground. Even though he knew the steps, this was unfamiliar territory. He wasn't ready to jump into something like this again, because he didn't want to get hurt again. It happened with all the women in his life, did he risk it again by making a repeat offence? Was it an addiction that he couldn't break out of? Falling for people who were dangerous for him? No. It was not, in retrospect. To err is human. He had plenty of opportunities to include others into his life, moments which he didn't shy away from and was willing. They parted ways for practical reasons. Practical and emotional. That was a language he was not familiar with. Everything he did, he did it with reason. There was no spiritual component because it was too vague. He relied on strategic calculations. You could not do that in romance, and the few times he tasted that bittersweet food, he was poisoned in the end. They were not a waste of time, however, because they taught him something about himself, and even then, not everything had useful, some things did not have to be practical. Not everything needed gadgets and math to make it more useful. Some things just were.

On that note, Bruce let out a small chuckle.

Joker took note and turned his attention towards the playboy.

"What is so funny?" he said in a tone of mild bitterness.

"The irony," Bruce smiled, he looked up at the ceiling.

"Excuse me?" Joker responded. He looked coolly at Batman's direction without fully facing him.

"Nothing. I'm just laughing at myself. Just like that time at the carnival."

Joker scrunched his nose, trying to digest the words. Had he remembered that?

"And…? It took you that long to notice?"

"I guess I was too stubborn for my own good," Bruce responded. He patted the sheets that covered Joker's thigh.

"Stop it, if you want to get my attention, you don't have to do that…" Joker sighed. He rolled over to his side, hiding the anger on his face.

"I don't have to….I want to…" Bruce replied.

The Clown Prince then readjusted himself and turned around to face Bruce before lifting himself up to face Bruce. He desperately wanted to bridge that gap between the two of them.

"I don't want you to do this because I want too. Remember that. It's just, I hate mixed messages."

Bruce met him on the same level. He supported himself with his left arm and used the other to trace a finger on the clown's jaw line. He didn't want to hurt the person who had helped him grow. Never had someone made him bloom like he did. Joker had pulled him out of that bleak hole.

Words weren't needed to express what was on both their minds as Bruce pulled the clown closer to him. They were both on their knees on the mattress when they exchanged a fond embrace and shared a tender kiss.

**EDIT 12/22/08: I am idiot. There was an embarrassing typo in the original post. Forgive me for my bone headedness, you guys.**

Okay, Stanky McNasties, since does not allow NC-17 bits unless the are short, I am making the next chapter private. You can get the extra bit by sending me a message at slytherinshannonatgmaildotcom. You can also reach me using my LJ profile which is linked on my profile here just in case this site decides to misbehave. **Please use the subject heading with phrases like 'Chapter 26 Part 2', 'OMC', 'One More Chance', or 'private chapter' so that I know you are from here. Look forward to 'meeting' you. **

I don't want to make an LJ comm to host my story in its entirety and heavily moderate who 'friends' it. I borrowed this model from Dark Jester from her story. I decided to lift the embargo after some thinking. It just wasn't fair and I apologize to anyone who found it inconvenient. It's just that there have been times when I was younger I got caught looking at things when I wasn't supposed to and it's my fault for projecting my fears and mistakes onto you. This is my inner moderator talking but I also don't feel comfortable posting a twenty page long intimate scene in a public forum. Thank you for reading and I apologize for any inconvenience.

ETA: added March 28 2010. I had a reader, dreamfairy101 remind me to tell you guys that I do send the private chapter as long emails and not as documents, so don't worry. Thank you, dreamfairy for reminding me. As always, reader caution is advised. Underage readers proceed with extreme caution.

ETA 2 added July 17, 2010. Okay, I have had quite a few people do this but I do NOT, I repeat I DO NOT send the private chapter over private messages. I had a few readers request it but the emails are blocked out.. I send them as full text and not documents so don't worry about any weird viruses. I also want to extend my thanks to my readers. I may not show it but you are all very precious to me. Thank you guys! You are amazing! If you have any questions, concerns, comments, thoughts, feel free to let me know. If you want to talk about Mel Gibson, that's okay too!


	27. Pillow Talk

Author's note: Sorry for the delay guys. RL is a bitch and she's kicking my butt. I had a little free time and the itch to write up a little something that I had to share. Thank you for the reviews and the kind words. You all are precious to me, even if I do not show it. And to the readers who requested the private chapter (buncha pervs, and you know who you are!) thank you very much. I'm glad to hear from new and old readers.

Era/setting: Post crisis 1985. I just pretend this FC isn't happening. On second thought with the multiverse coming back, the possibilities are endless.

Pairing: Batman, Joker

Synopsis: Pillow Talk

Archive: Yes, just let me know

Genre: Romance, psychological, drama, action noir

**Edit: June 2, 2008. Apparently the site has been screwing up my format (I caught some very obvious typoes that even spellcheck should have underlined)AND I can't put down my email. My contact info is at the bottom of this chapter. I am VERY sorry for the inconvenience you guys. I'm in the process of rebataing my later chapters. The typos should be fixed. Thank you for your patience, and remember, if you want to send a bomb or a death threat, send it in a purple envelope please. :D**

**Also, if you are going to send hatemail, you have to ask yourself first off why are you going to waste your time, and secondly if you're going to accuse me of commiting sacriligeous OOC behavior, I would like some citations along with alternatives you might want to offer. Without either those two things, I will just assume you will only be talking out of rear and henceforth you are wasting both of our time. It's a romance story, so emotions are going to be involved and with that comes some character tweaking. Personally, Bruce wouldn't be so open to it so I had to do it with Joker. The character has had a history of humanization, albeit a small one. That does not mean it's not there. To further test your beliefs, I strongly reccomend my friend Jokerlady's brilliant tale Path of the Jester. It shows an actual THINKING Joker who is not reduced to a one note killing machine. I like a humanized Joker not for the sympathy factor but because it shows that he can THINK without being completely reactionary which is my current beef with the DCU and its treatment of the character. True, it's like playing with fire and it would take a brilliant writer (COUGH Alan Moore COUGH) to pull it off and I would like to think I am succeeding in doing so. ****If you have a problem with that, there is a smogasbord of other fanfics that might suit your needs. This is not crackfic, this is not PWP. **

**I would also like to take the chance and say that this is where part one of the story ends. OMC is not just a romance story between two characters but an interwoven tale that encompasses alot of traits from the Bat mythos and that includes psychological, spiritual and action adventure oriented overtones. For the readers who haven't had any spoilers, all I have to say is, you ain't seen nothing yet! :)**

**Furthermore, it has come to my attention that some people have a problem with my views on Harley Quinn and the Joker. It's okay if you like that pairing. I don't care. We were not created to be carbon copies of eachother. If you love this story and if you like JHQ stories, I do not love you any less than if someone reads strictly yaoi, romance, etc. I wrote Harley the way I did because I am tired of the constant misuse of her character in 99.9 of the fanfics I see here. I think the character should have more depth and actual thinking processes without being reduced to a puppet for fangirlish fantasies. The same goes for the Joker. It goes without saying that there are exceptions to every rule, but I won't waste my time customizing each and every individual writer because I have become too disilusioned to go further and read any more of them. Feel free to debate me if you wish and also remember, being open minded does not mean that one is free from giving criticism. For example, I love Chuck Dixon's work but I do not agree with alot of the man's politics. That does not stop me from enjoying his works. I hope you feel the same way, **

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After a few hours slumber and the calming of muscles relaxed his body, Bruce shifted slightly only to wake himself in the midst and comfort of the cave. He lay sideways, hugging the fluffy pillow that welcomed his tired head and soothed his troubles away.

It was calm and quiet. Only the steady drip of an off way irrigation system was the sign of life in the desolate cave. He preferred it that way. Groggily, he rose himself up to rub the weariness from his tired head only to be held back by something.

A lightning white arm was snaked around his torso and it was then that the memories began pouring back. It was confirmed when he felt Joker's warm body pressed against him, spooning. The Joker was actually pressed up against him in an S shape, his thin and frail chest breathing softly against his toned back.

Cherry red lips curled up in a blissful manner warmed the Bat's heart. It was hard to imagine that this was the same man who had caused all the chaos that defined his mission and yet bring him to his knees at the same time as was demonstrated by the previous night's tryst. Never had he experienced such a powerfully intimate moment. With other women, it was a given and it was mechanical. He had honed and trained his body like a machine. All the 27 martial arts he mastered, all the battles against Darkseid, Luthor, Joker and the whole host of Arkham's Finest were undone by the man sleeping beside him. Aside from Selina, never had an intimate experience felt as powerful as it did last night.

The pit of his stomach pinched at his soul. He didn't' want to think that it was because he had slept with the enemy that he had felt this twinge in his conscience. Truth be told, it was only a part of it. How would the rest of them fine out? Oracle? Dick? Tim? Did they deserve to know? Was it any of their business?

Secrets were a part of his life, what was one more? He could concoct a tall tale about Joker and his whereabouts. They needn't know about him. But then again, it was so big it threatened to bring down the house of cards.

Slowly, he sought to remove himself of the Joker's clutch by adjusting himself away from the Joker, who gave a small disgruntled sigh in response to the invasion of his peaceful slumber. It was in Bruce's favor when he saw the Clown Prince move and faced the other side, dragging some of the sheets with him and giving Bruce the freedom he needed. Slowly, he edged out of the bed, taking some sheets with him. It was then that he noted a robe that was neatly piled, alongside a pile of freshly laundered clothes. How did those get in there, and most importantly, how much did he know? It didn't matter. What he did in the privacy of the cave was his and precious. He didn't have to like it. He didn't hire him to snoop around and to dictate who he could and could not spend an evening round e'vous with. That was not his place, even if he fed him since he was 6.

He put on the burgundy terrycloth and slippers provided for him and made his way to the entrance of the cave. It felt like the longest walk ever. This was the first time he was facing the real world again since last night. Just act natural. Be yourself, all secretive and broody. He did not have to know.

He found Alfred preparing breakfast already. The pile of pots, pans, sauces and various kitchen wares meant that it was more than your typical morning meal. The smell of hash browns, eggs on the skillet and coffee greeted his Master's nose.

"Have trouble sleeping sir? It is quarter past ten," Alfred interjected, turning towards the master who was washing his hands by the sink.

"Very funny, Alfred, and no I didn't," Bruce replied, trying to steer the conversation away from what happened after he left the cave. He was not in the mood to walk on eggshells in his own home and his body was starving. The morning smells were tingling and tempting his taste buds.

"Surely, a nocturnal creature such as yourself needs his energy," Alfred responded while adding a small bit of margarine to a pan, creating a loud hissing sound. Alfred was an artist, and while he was expressive in his quips and other ways, he had this resilient air of mystery. He knew but he didn't know, and that's how he liked it. He didn't have to know. He knew when to back off and act peachy.

"Orange juice of coffee, sir?" The butler queried as he added a pinch of salt and peppers to the fried eggs.

"Juice, please," Bruce said groggily. He sat down and held his head in his hands as if a migraine were threatening his concentration.

"Orange or cranberry?" Alfred asked yet again.

Too many questions. What was this, the Spanish Inquisition?

"Surprise me," Bruce groaned. He didn't know whether the sensation was coming from a tiny twinge of shame or something else.

"Very good sir," Alfred replied. "I recommend the oatmeal and some egg whites. You need the fiber and protein to keep up your strength".

"Don't lecture me about nutrition, Alfred. I've had a long night," Bruce added. He touched the five o'clock shadow to soothe away his nerves. He talked too much.

"Obviously, sir. I was only making small talk. Will Mr. Joker have anything or will he make another unplanned trip to the kitchen and demand I give him Dijon sauce for his bacon?" Alfred Pennyworth responded, stirring the batter in the large bowl.

"Just eggs and some fruit, please He doesn't like cheese," Bruce responded.

"Very well," the butler replied.

The silence was intimidating; it was as if it was saying that he was caught, like he knew something and that he knew better than to tread those forbidden waters. Better come up with some distraction. Change subjects.

"Did I get any calls?" the playboy queried, helping himself to a cup of rich roasted coffee.

"Marshall McKall is still wondering if you are interested in that business deal. Need I remind you that he wanted to see if there can be arrangements so that laptops could be donated to inner city high schools? You last spoke three months ago."

McKall, 33, tan skinned, billionaire industrialist. He didn't like the way he presented himself at the last two meetings. No pass go.

"That Milanese heiress you dated was wondering if you were interested in going skiing in the Swiss Alps this weekend. I told her that you were in talks with some philanthropy work in Moldova and won't be back until the end of next week."

Cecilia? Celia?

"I owe you one, old man," Bruce added. As much as it bothered him that he was nitpicky, Alfred was god send. He was a lifesaver. The man's talent at weaving intricate tales to cover his tracks was a deal the Bat cherished. It was the lifeline he needed to have a normal life, or what he could get of it. It was like a delicate game of chess. One had to think of the move and its ramifications ten steps ahead.

"Never mind, sir. If I am allowed the pleasure of indulging in morning talk shows, I must surely keep my end of the bargain is what I always say," Alfred quipped as he handed Bruce a covered silver plate that obviously had hot contents underneath.

"Don't forget your juice, sir," the butler added his cup of orange juice and two cups of coffee underneath the covered trays.

"Tell your houseguest that I will not be in the kitchen this afternoon and that I will be tending the garden, so he will have no use of making unexpected drop ins at my expense,"

Bruce stifled a laugh.

"I'll be sure to remember that," he said as he went back to the grandfather clock and returned back to the desolate coldness of the cave.

Upon his arrival, he noticed that the Prince had awoken and was stretching himself in a cat-like manner, arching backwards.

"Good morning…………" Joker crooned. Tired green eyes greeted the playboy. The clown wiped a loose curl away from his face to get a better look at his lover.

"I hope you like scrambled eggs," Bruce added as he set down the silver tray at the bedside. He began searching for a stand to put their breakfast.

"Mmmmmmm, sounds yummy…………." Joker licked his lips. He looked at the other man dreamily and lay on his stomach, watching him as he readied the contents.

Bruce smiled slightly and began setting up the set and placed their meal on the makeshift table.

"You know………..I don't know what you did to me, but I can't feel my legs….." Joker purred and rolled on his back, laughing softly at himself.

"Joker!" Bruce blushed. All morning long, he felt as he was walking on the tips of his toes, but in the bottom of his heart, he knew that the 'talk' was inevitable.

"Okay, okay. Don't get bent out of shape. You were there too!" Joker punched the other man playfully.

"I know. I just don't feel the need to be so…..crass about it," Bruce said calmly before he set up the display.

They both had the same menu: eggs, two biscuits each, fried potatoes, a batch of fresh fruit and a small cup of yogurt. Joker curled himself up and gazed at his meal proudly. He was at the moment, however, not thinking about food.

"So you mean to tell me that you don't talk about the sex with your other playmates?" Joker inquired. His brilliant eyes gleamed with innocent yet devilish rigor.

"What's there to talk about?" Bruce cleared his throat, trying not to sound too ashamed or caught in the moment as he set down their meals. "We did what he did."

"That's true, but I just wanted to say that I have never felt so……………..alive," Joker said finally.

"I could say the same," Bruce said with an air of confidence while trying to maintain minimal eye contact with the Joker. The Prince barely noted Bruce's absent mindedness and instead focused his attention on the toned body which was underneath that pesky terrycloth.

"I'll say." Joker smiled as he pulled himself up and wrapped the covers around his nude frame. He pulled himself up to be closer to Bruce.

"You know," he stifled a small giggle, "……it never crossed my mind that underneath the kevlar and black rubber, I would never in a million years thought that I would find a birthmark on your tush!" Joker smirked. Bruce coughed in embarrassment, making the Joker peel with laughter.

"You didn't," Bruce began. A small reddish blush piqued on his cheeks. Oh, God.

"Cross my heart, Brucie," Joker made an X across his chest with his finger. "I won't tell. Does Catlady know?" He leaned forward, trying to get a better glance at the now reclusive playboy. It was so cute to see him act all shy like this.

" I wouldn't know, I never asked her," Bruce replied. Of all things that he had to mention……..

"Pity, one would think with her history, she would do more things than I did to you!" Joker hissed. He glances at his nails with pride.

"If you keep talking like that, I am going to feed you your food out of a can of Friskies," Bruce responded, trying to add light to the atmosphere. It was all out in the open, best make light of the situation.

"No. It's only Fancy Feast for me," Joker quipped and grabbed a spoon before tapping the glass of juice three times. Bruce smiled. There was something about him that made him forget all the troubles that plagued his mind. He made him feel less…..constrained, like he didn't have to have the entire world's weight on his shoulders. Joker undid that. He made him breathe a little easier. It was not like having your cake and eating it too, but Joker made it feel that way.

For a bit, he saw the value in savoring precious moments.

"So, what's on the menu, today, besides Eggs Benedict?" Joker asked before stretching his arms out to greet Bruce's, making intimate contact.

"Nothing, the Board of Directors doesn't need me for every meeting." Bruce replied before settling down and began to gorge on the meal beforehand with the Clown Prince at his side.

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End note: Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think. I am currently looking for a beta. If you are interested, send me an email at: slytherinshannonATgmailDOTCOM If you still want to read chapter 26 and didn't want to ask last time, send me a message with the headline Chapter 26 part 2 or One More Chance.


	28. The Changing Tides

_Author's note: Hello friends. Thank you for the kind words and responses. They mean a lot to me. I have been very very busy during my last two quarters. Thank you for being patient with my tardiness. Believe me when I say that I do think about my story even in the midst of academia and work. I have just been utterly utterly distracted. I also decided to take a break from the story and rechanneled my attention to my other white faced fandom. So no, I didn't forget the story. I already know what is going to happen but it is the details and the approach that is really stifling me creatively. I wanted to make is extra special. This chapter was going to be written very differently but it wasn't until early this morning that I decided to get my portfolio, tear out some pages and flush those ideas down the toilet. I was going to do it the same way I originally intended to write chapters twenty, twenty one and twenty two as one long diatribe but decided to cut it down for the sake of time. I was going to make it so that Catwoman, Nightwing, Robin and Oracle met up but changed that up a bit and now I came up with this symphony. I hope you like it. Like Christopher Nolan, I won't be adding extra features at the end of the story but I will put nuggets here and there. _

_I would also like to take the time to say that this has been an exhilarating experience both positive and negative. I have noticed that there has been a sudden increase in hate mail. Let me tell you, dear reader that writing is not and should not be about fame, but because you like to do it. I have seen how other writers abuse that privilege and tell others what to do. I admit I was a bit disillusioned when I saw this. The most, for lack of a better word, interesting experience came from a real BONEhead. I also had a reader accuse me from stealing work. They are entitled to their opinions but I will say this one more time. If you are going to accuse me of something, ask em first before you jump to conclusions by fabricating lies out of your sick imagination. If I was indeed stealing from other people, why would I promote the story I was stealing from? I liked some ideas but I wanted to give my own spin on it. I have had my ideas that have been tweaked by other people. That's fine. I don't care. They are entitled to their creations. If you are going to accuse me of stealing work, I would like to see some concrete evidence. I found out one day that one person decided to be a coward and not leave their email which prevented me from correcting them. Please, if you have any issue or a question ASK me first before you jump to conclusions and label me. If you have the balls to call me out, then you should have the balls to leave some form of communication. I have also had this kind of behavior written on my livejournal for unrelated purposes. I cannot stand cowards, I cannot tolerate unfound flames without reasonable back up. If you want to call me out, you are more than welcome to. Just don't be a pussy about it. I am shameless when I say that people like fef need to grow a pair if they are going to jump to conclusions before accusing me of such things. Also, to people like Bonehead, or bonedaddybaby or whatever he calls himself, if you are going to tell me to do some research, give me some concrete examples of what to do. Don't pull things out of your rear and spout all these names at me when I ask what I did wrong. _

_For the rest of you, I do apologize for my tardiness. I have been focusing on other fandoms and working overtime to fund my trip to San Diego in two weeks. I am also anticipating the new Dark Knight video. Let me tell you, Nurse Joker is becoming somewhat of a new fetish of mine! Joker as a red head is yummy! Okay, okay, get to the story you! Forgive the long diatribe, but I had to get it off my chest and I purposely put it in italics so that way you could skip ahead and enjoy your snack. _

_Peace. Again, if you have any questions or comments, I am here. _

Pairing: Batman/Joker

Era/setting: Post crisis 1985

Synopsis: Drama

Rating: R

Genre: Drama, psychological, suspense, action adventure, noir

Bruce was in deep concentration as he searched through his files as he tried searching for any updates on either Scarecrow, Riddler or any of that lot. He had been terribly distracted and made a mental note to himself that he would put in more hours on his next patrol. So far, the files, like a new computer, were clean or any viruses. The sad news is that there were no significant updates that piqued his interest. He made some searches but turned up next to nothing. The only thing that caught his attention was a tabloid journal, the Gotham Post, printed a story about Catwoman apprehending the Scarecrow.

The levels that these people will sink to made his stomach crawl.

There was also news of an opening exhibit at the Creative Arts Center funded by college students that discussed how all these rogues were apart of local mythology. He sipped his coffee in disgust. Not since he Moth man had he seen this kind of fanaticism. On one hand, it reminded him that there were others that were more of questionable mind than he was that didn't belong in Arkham. But Bruce was a man who always saw the glass half empty and that meant that he had to push himself. He had wasted so much time and lost leads. Were they red herrings? Were they just hors d'ourves to a meal that was out of his grasp? The pattern was there but there was a missing chess piece. There was a sort of definite pattern forming and just like Harley Quinn's mallet was used to strike his jaw, they were just tools to hinder and slow him down. It was like oil leaking out of a car and walking around in the dark without proper vision to aid.

He did feel as though he was lost in this abyss, without help, without friends. It was choking him. Selina was clearly upset. Would she still offer her hand to help him? He did lie to her, but she was a tough cookie but being the cynic that he was, that was a chance blown out the window, so he was now back to square one. He had to do this alone.

Bruce continued his search. There had to be something and he did have a few ideas. He went in the way of Holmes in that a likely impossibility was always preferable to an unconvincing impossibility.

Behind him, Joker was playing text twist and hang man on his iPhone. The Prince smiled to himself as he was on a winning streak. He giggled every time he typed in a dirty word or a bit of diction that fit his motif and repertoire. He was donning a pair of deep mauve and white striped pants and a wife beater. Alfred had custom made him his casual wear and was on his way of making more. The Prince requested an iron on tee with blood red words and a happy face that said, 'Why so sad?'

"So, find anything interesting?" The Prince said kittenishly as he brushed up on Bruce's chair. Green curls cascaded down his forehead, giving him a tint of feminine allure.

"No. I doubt you are interested in hearing about Harley and Ivy's misadventures in Market Square in Downtown." Joker scoffed.

"Harley is that baby I should have aborted years ago. Anything else happen this week?" Joker leaned in and gazed up at the screen, eying it with some fascination and curiosity.

"Just some tabloid garbage. I doubt you'd be interested in that," Bruce said calmly. He tapped a few more keys after typing in a new search.

"Perish the thought! Why when I spent my days at Arkham, the only time no one had their tongue ripped out was when Ophelia was on! Oh, the conspiracy theories Riddles ate up and that feminist myth the Queen of Weeds ate up before the rest of us burst her bubble. Mind you, I only loved her when she had types like George Carlin and Steven Wright on her show."

"I have met her in person," Bruce said, trying to lighten the mood. "A very nice lady. She invited me onto her program to discuss philanthropy and charity…."

"And you refused to go because you are the mysterious and silent type. Isn't that right, my little rodent?" Joker smiled. He petted the mass of jet black hair of the playboy.

"Something like that," Bruce said gently. There was creakiness in the voice that did not go unnoticed by the ears of the Clown Prince. Forest colored eyes narrowed themselves in deep thought. Something had been troubling the Bat and it was obvious to him that it had nothing to do with Spooky, Ugly or Hat guy. It was something else and it bothered him more than when Harley surprised him with uncooked meal or tackled tickles.

"You are playing that game again…." Joker suggested. He began to rub the playboy's shoulders.

"What game?" the unmasked Dark Knight replied. He smiled slightly.

"The I am going to play dumb game. You know I don't like that. I see no reason that you do have to not trust me. You were so….passionate. I can't believe that this is suddenly stopping you….."

"Stopping me from what?" Bruce pushed on. Oh, what was he talking about now?

"Oh, you know, from talking to me. Anything. I still can't believe that you are the same person I was with last night," Joker said softly while scratching his arm.

"Just because we did what we did doesn't mean I can turn off my personality, Joker," Bruce took another sip of his drink.

"Oh, I know, I know…it's just that I get the impression that you are…hiding something…." The Prince sighed.

Bruce's stomach tinged. He had caught the scent. Joker was a shark and he caught the smell of blood.

"Why would I be hiding something? You know some of us aren't born parrots. Some of us are just naturally silent," Bruce stated.

"I am not talking about that. I am talking about how you are holding your breath. You aren't just quiet, you are silent. Silence means that you are holding back something."

Bruce put the computer in sleep mode before he swiveled the chair and put full focus on the clown.

"When I hear of something, you will be the first to know," he said gently. Clearly, Joker was getting impatient and the last thing he wanted was an angry clown that would put a two year old to shame.

"I am not talking about those bastards and Johnny come latelies," Joker said sourly. "I am talking about you. You are quiet as if something is bothering you."

It was a hit below the belt.

Bruce glanced up and smiled at the clown. For once, in recent memory he had never felt so, content. And yet, he hated that feeling. It meant that you could hang up your cape and boots and forget your troubles. Bruce wasn't that kind of person. He would rather forego five years of endless taxing of his spirit than be locked in a state of bliss. It was just a fantasy. No one could ever be happy. Feelings were fluid, just like his mission. He had gotten so used to his cause that he could not imagine living any other way.

He could not trust even his own shadow.

On one hand, it did bring him some much needed solitude but at the expense of pushing others away. Joker had undone all of that. Their exchange of intimacy reminded him that not everything had to have a specific purpose. Not everything had to have a point and that some things just were. Before, he liked to gloss over things by paint brushing them with an idea and while it gave him results, it was not so consistent in areas that were not of his expertise. It was shaky ground and he was trying to build bridge while using quicksand as an apparatus. Still, a part of him felt that this was an unplanned surprise. He was not supposed to fall for the clown's charms and here he was broken down and beaten. It was a mixed blessing, so to speak. He didn't want to think of this as a bonus because it brought along more complications. How would he tell the commissioner? On second thought, he didn't have to know. A large part of their relationship was based on blind trust and secrets. He was a landmine of surreptitious dealings. What is one more? He could make up a lie that involved a crate and an explosion and he would buy it hook line and sinker. Then again, Gordon was a cop and it took a long while for him to gain back his trust. What if he didn't buy even if he told the rest of the PD?

How would his relationship with Dick change? Tim? Barbara? Oh, God, Barbara. He could not hide things from them. His old self would say 'get used to it', no questions asked. Now, he wasn't so sure. He had gotten slightly more sensitive in the three weeks. They changed every fiber of his being.

On one hand, he felt rejuvenated and yet he also felt slightly awkward. Was it because he had indulged more than once? Was it because he made love to his worst enemy, the same one who took Barbara's legs?

"I am not so sure I buy that," Joker said snidely.

"Why is that?" Bruce said while clearing his throat. He knew that the clown caught it and he did his best to act like nothing was bothering him. He put on his best poker face and stared straight ahead into the screen.

"Because you are not being specific. Don't take me as stupid, Bats. I may be a certified psychopath with delusions of grandeur, obsessive compulsive personality disorder and a narcissistic deficiency but that does not make me stupid!"

"You are getting out of hand," Bruce said in a calm but alert tone. "And you are taking this way too personal. You think that just because I don't shower you with attention that I am hiding something?" A small smile formed on his face. Maybe a jab might lessen the tension. "You remind me of Selina," Bruce added. Joker's eyes narrowed.

"Don't you ever compare me to that fat witch!" Joker growled.

"Well, excuse me but just because I am keeping mum about this doesn't mean I am hiding things from you. It just means I have nothing to say to you. I am sorry if I can't be open with you as you'd like, but I see no reason to say things when I have none. You don't see me telling you to shut your mouth, do you?" Bruce said darkly. He was desperate. He didn't want to curve to swing this far away from the center. Joker was becoming an emotional baggage and it was getting to him.

Joker's face contorted into one of disgust. How dare this man talk to him this way? If Bruce was indeed clean about the whole thing, why couldn't he be direct?

It had something to do with him. He could talk about the reproductive habits of mollusks and he still wouldn't care. He just didn't like being left out in the cold. Bruce was a man of secrets and he could not stand being left out. He had spent hours at that computer not talking to him. Surely, he would have found something by now. A part of him could not let go of the idea that he had something to do with Bruce ignoring him.

"I know you are hiding something and you are not telling me. Add to the fact that you won't tell me exactly what just confirms it. You won't talk to me-"

"I am talking to you know," Bruce chimed in.

"You won't talk to me about us!" Joker shrieked. "Where does this all go to? What will be your duty to the city? How will you explain all this to the commissioner? What about junior? Am I going to have to babysit him and make cookies with him while you are out fighting crime?"

Bruce sighed

"I have it all covered," Bruce stated simply. "Don't worry about it."

"That is exactly what I am talking about. You do things that have to do with me directly and you don't tell me," the clown replied coolly. "How the hell am I supposed to take it?"

"Maybe you need to learn a thing or two about trust, Joker? Isn't that what you have been preaching all along?" Bruce counterattacked. Best use fire against fire.

"Not when I don't have a say in it!" Joker yelled.

Bruce's mind snapped into action. How do you calm a rowdy clown who is on the brink of a breakdown?

"Relax," Bruce stood up and placed his hands on the jester's shoulders. "I have it all figured out. You worry too much," Bruce leaned in and kissed the prince on the cheek. Maybe that would put out the fire that swelled in his belly.

"Whatever," the Prince shoved him back. "I will be in the cot. When your insecurity and immaturity inverse in proportion to your trust on me, you know where I will be," Joker said hotly.

"Now those are fighting words," Bruce replied dimly. Joker made a raspberry and threw a pillow.

Ever since their trade last night, he had noted that the Dark Knight had been less….involved. In fact, they barely talked over their breakfast, smiling silently at each other and mostly from the Joker. He just figured that the Bat didn't like to talk with his mouthful but now he wasn't so sure. Yes, he knew that he liked his privacy and surely, he felt that he was entitled to bear witness to the Bat's most private thoughts. But after last night, barely anything was said. The Prince wanted to think that it was in his nature to be so silent. Still, he caught a nuance and decided to save himself the stress and decided to go for another round of Tetris.

Just at that moment, he noted a small red light at the left corner of his screen and he took the call.

He wasn't one to answer at first.

"Hello, Bruce?" a female voice responded. Barbara.

"I got your message. Did you find any leads?"

He was of course referring to any of the promising clues that came from the Mad Hatter's visit at the gala last night.

Barbara helped herself to a cup of Ramen noodles as she typed on the keypads.

"Very. I found a possible trading place by the Gotham docks. This sounds like it's big business."

"Any specific license plates I should keep a lookout for,"

"Just look for crates that are marked Bhutan, Dubai or Singapore. I hacked into the docks computer system and I do not see any official listings from shipment from those places."

"Are you okay?" Bruce said suddenly. Barbara was taken aback. Normally, Bruce wasn't this attentive but there was no harm done in answering.

"Nothing a little Tylenol wouldn't do. Did Dad give you the package he found on his desk?" Barbara queried. She had ventured into some important government files. She had also been doing side jobs for Zinda, Helena and Selina."

"Yes," Bruce stated simply.

"Was there anything of interest in there?" Barbara folded her hands and pressed her chin onto the closed fists.

"More than I would like to know," Bruce stated directly and it was more than enough warning that there had been some progress done and that it was best to leave the Bat up to this.

"It's better than nothing. I gotta go now." A click sound was followed.

Bruce hung up.

Barbara turned from her desk to the door. She had invited Dick over for a small luncheon to discuss progress….and Bruce.

The former boy wonder presented the ex Batgirl with a surprise dish he had cooked up. Lasagna.

"Hey there." He said sweetly. No matter how long they had stopped dating she could not resist that boyish smile. Curse your Dick Grayson. "I made your favorite."

"You shouldn't have," Babs smiled.

"You talk to the big guy yet?" Dick said as he set up the dining area. He even brought a faux flower in a pot to make the meal more romantic.

"I just did. Turns out he is a few steps ahead, though he didn't tell me what," Barbara replied.

"Typical Bruce." He helped serve her a hearty serving of the fine vegetable and meat dish on a plate for her. "The ultimate control freak. Even he can make that scary."

"Stop it Grayson, I think we should step in. I mean, trying to catch Scarecrow and the Joker is like trying to herd cats." Barbara said bitterly.

"Have you made some plans? Have you discussed this with the Birds?" Dick responded as he poured some ice cold soda for him and Barbara.

"Not yet, but I did mention it to Dinah, so who knows. The entire JLA should know, but with Bruce who knows. When I first mentioned it to them, they were surprised. That bothered me more. It was as if Bruce was keeping this to himself."

"He has been acting kinda funny, I think I'll go visit him," Dick said dimly.

"I think you should. It's not right that he's acting like this. And the fact that even Clark was surprised got me, really."

"Don't worry, I'll go talk to him. I know something is up." He took a sip of his Coke.

"And I am going to find out exactly what is distracting Bruce."

Bruce shuffled through some more pages. He had gotten slightly surprised as he had just been talking to Barbara while only seconds earlier he was talking to her attacker casually. He buried himself deeper into his work to distract and numb the swelling that was in his stomach.

"Who was that?" Joker piped up from behind.

"No one," Bruce stated simply. "Just someone."

"Someone I know?" Joker said venomously.

Bruce leaned down on the monitor. He knew that the meet would be inevitable. He just didn't want to be pushed in that direction so quickly.

"Yes," he said simply.

"One of your colleagues from the Justice League?" The Clown Prince purred. It tried Bruce's patience. He did not like to be pushed. He was in a sensitive state and he was in no mood for jokes especially when he was pushed there.

"Just someone you know and I will leave it at that," Bruce said in the calmest tone that he could muster. Joker's peridot colored eyes narrowed.

"Fine, be that way," the Prince huffed in disgust. He had tried. He turned around the opposite way from where Bruce sat. "I don't want dessert tonight…."

"Alfred is making your favorite, raspberry cheesecake," Bruce said in a last attempt to build his burnt bridge.

"I wasn't talking about the damn cheesecake," Joker said in a voice laced with poison.


	29. Clash of the Titans

_Author's note: I didn't intend to write anything this weekend but for some reason I had the itch to write this at the last minute. I hope you enjoy it. This chapter is going to be very very different as it deals mainly with the other characters in the story. I wanted to get away from Batman and Joker because I wanted to get the story rolling and I am glad I finally found the time and motivation to do so. I also planted a surprise at the end. I hope you enjoy this piece. I had to come up with about three different versions for this chapter and I finally found it. It has action and drama rolled into one. In the meantime, I hope you have enjoyed my other works which I have written in between. Thanks! Please note, this takes place during the same time as chapter 26._

Era/setting: DCU Post Crisis 1985

Genre: Psychological, noir, drama, action, adventure, romance

Feedback: Always. Flames: Are only good for barbecues.

There had always been secrets between them. There was that tension that added a spice to their relationship like a forbidden fruit just begging to be taken out of the there and savored. That was what made the run ins with HIM memorable and why she didn't take the jewels and run for the hills. She was a Cat after all, and no Cat could be complete without her toy mouse. Every predator has its prey. Ever woman has her man. Every Cat has her Bat. But lately, it had started to fizzle away. Like smoke in her hands, it would just whither in her grasp. She didn't want to think it was jealousy. No. Selina Kyle would never kow tow to anyone. She had the charm of a dancer, the passion of a lover and the best 10,000 dollar legs.

Now, it was all gone.

It was that damn clown.

She had tried her best to communicate with him. That atmosphere at the gala would have been the perfect ambush spot, but Bruce could obviously smell the danger from a mile away. It was one thing that she admired from him, but at the same time, she hated him for that. It deterred any close encounters with him, it closed him off from any sort of intimacy. That is not to say that she wanted to control him. No. She did not own anyone. Catwoman likened herself to the book by Rudyard Kipling: she was the cat that walked by herself. That did not mean that she did not care. If anything, her sharp perceptions harbored a caring soul. But like Bruce, she was much sharper about it. But unlike him, she was not scared of her feelings.

And then that bastard from Wonderland had to ruin everything. She had him. She was willing to listen. She was waiting for an explanation and there she was cheated. Bruce had always been frustratingly secretive, but this time, it was far too much. She HAD to find out what was going on. Why was Bruce hiding that psychopath in the first place? That clown was lucky that she Bruce was there, otherwise she would have happily sliced through his windpipe.

With her jaws.

Overlooking the city from East 5th and Park Avenue, Catwoman surveyed the city like it was her own personal rainforest. Its secrets were just waiting to be unraveled. Of course, some were more time sensitive than others and she had heard some stories from the runts she used to recruit and help during her days in Gotham's east end as a kid.

Word was out that one of Scarecrow's underlings was out doing some naughty business deals by an old storage unit. For a shark, it was like tasting blood in the water, and Selina could not resist the thrill of a hunt.

On that note, she swung herself from a gargoyle on the old McCall building into the evening. Wind under her hair and feet, she savored the freedom as brushed against her face. The cold air was caressing her face reminding her that she still had it. Agile muscles moving in perfect symphony, a dance in the air, Selina twirled from base hop to the next, supporting herself on her knees in a crouching position to give her the best view on what was going on down below.

She had revisited the scene of the crime. She had a funny feeling that wouldn't leave her alone. There was something oddly familiar about that woman in the car. She had this feminine grace that rivaled her own and if she did not know better, KNEW who she was, hence the violent reaction. Hell, in Gotham, dressing up in a Cat costume, one would assume you would be going to a kinky costume party or a prostitute. It was ignored like yesterday's leftovers.

_Why was that woman very angry when she saw me? If I was a nobody, I doubt she would have reacted so strongly and instead have her heavies do me in. _

There was something about her voice. The tones were slow and low. Cats can sense that sort of thing. Prey have a distinctive reaction when they feel alert. The dance is always the same. If she did feel threatened why was it that case?

Selina Kyle had the feeling that these two had shared an encounter or a few. Granted, she had ripped off a few old rich millionaires but she has had various costume changes over the years, so who would remember who she was? No, that was crazy talk. Whoever that person was, she knew who she was.

The smell of pastrami from Oliver's Deli down on Orchard reached Catwoman's nostrils. The sweet smell of meat and rich sauces tempted her momentarily. She hadn't eaten all night on account that she still was not hungry, especially after how HE had rebuffed her. Still, she couldn't be THAT mad at him. She DID after all retrieve those tapes while he was playing tonsil hockey with that clown. The thought itself made Catwoman's hunger subside. Of all, people Bruce, why couldn't you have been with daddy's little princess, what's her face? She thought that he had better count his blessings on account that she wasn't that mad at him, but still ill nonetheless. She had gotten herself deep into this mess, all because of those stupid tapes and eavesdropping at the last minute.

Little did she know how deep that rabbit hole would be.

She leapt from one building on one side of the street to the other, which gave her a quick glimpse between alleyways and nooks and crannies that the cops do not like to look in.

Nothing so far, that was until she caught sight of a very familiar pair of cute buns.

Male, mid twenties, fit. Dark hair. He also had a younger and more colorful companion.

Well, well, well, look who wants to play. Selina smiled to herself.

"Kill two birds with one stone," she said to herself.

Dick Grayson and Tim Drake took off where Bruce left off and followed their leads but to little avail. The trail had gone cold and their clues had evaporated into smoke. They were now spending the evening doing what their daddy does best.

"So you think something really is up with Bruce?" Robin told the older male.

"I don't think it, I know it," Nightwing confirmed. They both landed on top of the old Richmond building on Skye and Marshall. It was the perfect spot to get a good view of the outer limits of the city. You could see the forests, the surrounding counties. Damn, of all places. Where are you hiding, Scarecrow?

"So you think, I mean, you know it's girl trouble?" The teenager asked again. Both boys hoisted themselves onto their cables, holding on tightly as they glided in midair, suspended in gravity, and wind in their faces.

"That's what I suspect. I mean, you should have seen him. I mean, I can understand he would be private about those sorts of things," Dick added. They finally made their stop on top of a lever at Miller Bridge overlooking the Sprang River. "But the way, he acted. Man."

"You don't think it's Talia, do you?" Robin glanced over at his older surrogate brother. The two had bonded like peas in a pod despite dissimilar circumstances that brought them into their present situation.

"I doubt it. It would not surprise me. Bruce isn't that stupid," Nightwing said as he overlooked the bright lights that shone over Gotham Harbor. He was in deep thought. His stoney face akin to that of his adoptive father gave him a trance-like profile. Truth be told, he had been worried about Bruce, but he did not want to step on his toes. Robin was his saving grace both at the party and at Bruce's home earlier this evening. Even then, he could not help but wonder if Bruce caught the scent of blood in the water. He had the eyes of an eagle, the agility of a cat and the demeanor of a bull shark.

"So what do you suggest we do?" Robin asked. He had no idea what was going on. Everything he had heard was second hand. Dick was never one to exaggerate, only when they told dirty jokes and when Babs or girls were not around. Other than that, Dick was as serious as Bruce. There was no way that he would be poking around the bush with something like this. The most important thing now was how to confront Bruce. There was no point in asking. They had to muscle their way into it because Bruce was as tightly packed as a pickle jar, only ten times worse and twenty times as large.

No, they had to do it the hard way but not without any sensitive care. Both he and Dick felt that they had been walking on eggshells. Truth be told, the gala provided only a taste of what Dick had suspected and now that Tim had saw it with his own eyes, it troubled him. Although Bruce was a small operator and talker, he could smell bullshit like a polar bear in the Arctic tundra. It was his mannerisms that gave 

him away slightly. Thank god for those theatre classes in sixth grade, otherwise, Tim would not have been able to pass that off with a straight face.

"You really have to ask?" Dick replied with a sigh. Just then, the sound of a beep was heard. Dick reached in for his back pocket for a small device and answered it

"Talk to me," Dick smiled into the device.

"Grayson, I told you not to use this thing for non work related purposes!" A female voice responded.

"Well, excuse me, but YOU called ME," Dick said with a welcoming grimace.

On the wallpaper, Oracle waved at Tim.

"Hey, squirt!" Barbara smiled, a headset was draped over her crown.

"Hey!" Tim waved back.

"So, any word on old Spooky?" Barbara said casually as she rested her face on her chin.

"Not much, the man is like a frickin' Octopus. Are you okay?"

Barbara laughed.

"I'm just fine. Luckily that bathroom was close by. I used a trash can as a block just in case," Barbara said reassuringly.

"Well, just as long as I hear your voice," Dick said warmly.

"You are too sweet, you two," Barbara replied back.

"Yeah, where would we be without our techno whiz? Best Buy's Geek Squad has nothing on you!" Tim Drake added.

"Okay, cut it out. What do you want?" Barbara said before taking a sip of her cocoa.

"You know a place where they leave clothes for the homeless. We're kind of hungry and I doubt they'll take us seriously in costume," Robin spoke into the screen.

"Hmmm, you mean those drop offs? Lemme check. I doubt there are any in your area…" Barbara stated before she tapped into the keys.

Dick cleared his throat.

"Um, before we get to that, Babs, we need your input."

"Shoot," Barbara retorted without looking up from her screen.

"What do you think about Bruce, lately?" Dick replied into the speaker.

"Hmmmm. Why do you ask?" Barbara said contemplatively. The tone implied that they had breached a forbidden door.

"Because we were wondering if he was giving you the cold shoulder too?" Tim exclaimed, pulling closer.

Barbara tapped a few more times before she took off her glasses and wiped a hand across her fiery red hair.

"Um, now that you mention it, he was kinda odd at the party earlier this evening…" Barbara said cryptically.

"What do you mean?" Dick pressed on.

"Um, well. There was just something off. I just assumed that it was because of the Scarecrow case," Barbara said calmly. "Why?"

Dick and Tim exchanged glances. Barbara took note.

"Um, well, we do not think it is because of that," Dick replied in a tense manner, a far cry from the tone he had exchanged earlier with the former Batgirl.

"And why, pray tell, do you think that is?" Barbara replied. This time, she had ceased attention from her computer work towards her two friends.

"Cuz, I…uh…" Dick began to scratch the back of his head, grabbing his black mane in apprehension.

"Grayson here went to go visit old Bruce one day and caught him with a girl…" Tim added finally. Dick sneered.

"What?" Barbara asked. She reached out to adjust the volume on her speakers.

"NO! What dingus here meant to say was I went to give Bruce a visit, and yes, I did want to check on him. I noticed that he didn't want to let me use the master bathroom.

"Don't get greedy here, Grayson," Barbara chuckled.

"I am serious, here Babs!" Dick raised his voice, trying to keep calm. "I saw Bruce with a purple robe, so it was obvious he was kicking me out because he had a….friend over," Dick said nervously. The notion of finally revealing this big juice secret to Barbara was both a relief and a pain. A relief because it was one less surreptitious detail to keep to himself and a pain because it felt like schoolyard gossiping.

"Hmmm. Strange, Bruce isn't usually shy about those sorts of things….." Barbara said as she tapped her chin with her index.

"Right. So we were wondering what the best option would be to ask him," Dick declared. Barbara nodded.

"While it would be a little too far-fetched to assume that they are directly related, it could explain Bruce's anxiety," Barbara responded.

"What do you mean? Bruce is always on top of things! He'll never let himself slow down or let anyone else pick up the tab!" Dick responded.

"Oh, really?" a sultry female voice replied, sending the two young men into a momentary state of surprise before finding the source of the noise. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves, boys. I guess it turns out that more of us are in this game of twister than we would like…."

A curved black figure crouched down. Catwoman.

Dick and Tim looked awestruck.

"Hello Oracle," Catwoman waved into the screen.

"Selina," Barbara responded.

Dick and Tim stared at one another like two deer caught in the headlights.

"Wait! You know each other?!" Tim spoke into the speaker.

"We have….worked together a few times…." Barbara said calmly.

"Don't worry, birdie, I won't bite…." Selina said in a flirtatious manner. "Unless you want me to…" Selina said before blowing a kiss from her hand. Dick pushed the younger man behind him.

"Relax guys, she won't bite," Barbara laughed over the screen.

"Not unless you give me the order, Oracle," Selina winked.

Dick still could not stomach that she was here.

"Okay, hold up, hold up. You are in all this how?" Dick said incredulously. Selina perched herself on a makeshift stool and sat comfortable before telling her tale. Her feline demeanor gave off a flair that was very Maria Felix.

"More than you two suckers could have. I heard the entire convo. I saw you by the Downtown district and I just had to follow you two…." Selina began. She crossed her legs and supported herself by placing her palms behind her, her head looking up as she closed her eyes.

"I'm sorry, but I don't have catnip on me," Dick said sourly.

"Grayson, stop!" Barbara replied. Selina ignored the retort before starting over again.

"As I was saying, I ran into Scarecrow's lawyer a few days ago. I went and found some presents that I thought might be of interest to our Bat," Catwoman said in a low voice. "So, I gave him my spoils of war. 

Round one to me, and zero to the birds…." Selina turned over onto her stomach. Tim and Dick didn't want to make it obvious that they felt that their skills were chopped off, amongst other things.

"But wait, I have another surprise. It seems to me that old skin and bones is in close contacts with someone from the outside…"

"We already know this part," Tim said in a bored fashion.

"You mistake my meaning, little bird. I mean working with someone that I've encountered."

Dick crossed his arms.

"So you're coming in to solve your little crusade?" Dick said suspiciously.

"Why not? If she is in contact with the lawyer, then the lamb is sure to follow…." Selina said cryptically.

Those words were poison to Dick Grayson. It was another nail.

"Wait! Wait!" Dick said suddenly with waving hands. "She?"

"Yeah, I know, another chess piece," Catwoman said darkly.

"Oh, man!" Tim said, throwing his palm onto his forehead.

"Oh, geez. Just what we needed!" Dick replied.

"Well, hey, don't kill the messenger! I'm just as shocked too!" Selina declared. Dick blew out of breath of air in deep anger and placed his hands on his hips. This was just great.

"Well, at least we have a couple of pieces to the puzzle," Barbara interjected finally. It was better than nothing, but from a wild card like Catwoman?

"What? No standing ovation?" Selina folded her arms with a smile. Dick and Tim gazed at her. They had to admit, she had chops. They had peanuts.

"I guess she can come along," Dick said bitterly.

"Guess is not a word in my vocabulary. I hate being so black and white about certain things, but I really do hate that word…"

"She's right, dude. She got some clues before us. Maybe she can help," Tim offered.

"That's the spirit!" Babs interjected again.

"Look, it's not that I don't trust you, but how do we know you won't bail out at the last minute?" Dick responded Selina jumped from her perch and walked over towards the two young men.

"Honey, just because I stole diamonds and worked the beat on these streets in a special kind of uniform doesn't mean that I don't care about Bruce. Besides, I know more things about him than you will ever know," Selina said breathlessly.

He of course, thought that she was referring to Bruce's relationship with her as socialite Selina Kyle.

She of course, was referring to that fateful night she made to the Bat cave that she will never forget.

Dick reached out a hand. Selina pursued. It was a cold, stiff touch of allegiance.

"Only because I trust you, Babs," Dick said somberly.

"Oh, stop. You're too young to be bitter like your daddy," Selina said impishly.

It was a tenser atmosphere than between Hirohito and Wilson.

"So, where do we go from now?" Selina finally asked.

"Well, you're the one with all the ropes, what do you suggest?" Tim replied.

"Hmmmmm, I was thinking maybe the storage rooms by Lake Street. If not there, then the docks. Hey, somebody must be getting weapons from somewhere…" Selina said suggestively.

Tim shrugged. "Let's do it. It's a slow night, let's see what pops up."

Dick nodded. "You two go on. I'll catch up."

On that note, the Cat and the Robin leapt from the rooftop and into the mouth of the city. It wasn't until they became specks in the distance that Dick spoke to Barbara again.

"So, what do we do about Bruce?" Dick asked her.

"That's easy. You ask him what's up. He trusts you the most," Barbara said finally.

"This is really bothering me," Dick sighed. "I'll visit him tomorrow."

"Gee, couldn't he have picked a less smelly place?" A loud squeaky voice broke through the silence.

"I told you Harley, I am only doing this as I am told. It's better than being stuffed up at Arkham," Pamela Isley responded.

"I know, I know, but until how long are we gonna play incognito? I'm starving here!" Harley exclaimed and patted her stomach.

"First, we have to pick up out next batch of presents and then we can have a late night snack," Ivy said with the sincerity of an annoyed older sister.

"Good, cuz I could sure go for a beefy burger at Fat boy's!" Harley responded. She licked her lips as she imagined that meaty, juicy morsel touch her palette.

"You shouldn't eat that stuff. It's bad for your body. You need to treat it like a temple," Pamela said in a sour tone without looking back at her friend.

"Hey, do I tell you to eat meat? You need yer protein girl! It's good for the brain!" Harley remarked. She followed the other woman behind her.

"Kettle, you're talking to the pot," Pamela responded.

"Hey! I only want what's the best for ya, but ya don't listen!" Harley screeched. It was worse than the sound of nails scratching.

"And I do the same for you, but do you listen? No," Poison Ivy said in a dark tone.

"Hey, what me in Mistah J have is unique! Special!" Harley added. Pamela rolled her eyes. Oh, boy, here we go. Cue the violins. "He's just….misunderstood…."

Pamela sighed.

"But aren't you having fun right now? To be free from all that?"

"Yeah," Harley stated simply.

"You don't have the Batman down your throat anymore. Lemme tell you something girl, I am proud," Pamela smiled.  
"Awww, gee, really?" Harley blushed. It was the first genuine comment she had heard in a long time. The last time Joker said that was one time during their therapy sessions.

"Yup! You got spunk, kid. I'll tell you that!" Pam responded.

"Yeah, well, no one messes with my friends. Y'all are precious to me," Harley smiled.

Pam petted her on her head.

"I never thought you had it in you, to be honest," Pamela finally added. Truth be told, it was that passion that sparked Poison Ivy's interest.

"You just gotta push the right buttons," Harley replied. "Everyone's got 'em," she said solemnly. "Bats has too many of them," Harley chuckled to herself.

"Mmm hmmm," Pamela nodded. They walked down a sewer system. Harley covered her nose with her hand.

"I still don't see why they won't give us all the details."

"In due time, Harley. Now, be quiet," Pamela ordered.

"Eye eye captain!" Harley replied in a loud tone.

In his study, Jonathan Crane worked on a new concoction. So far everything had gone according to plan, provided by the fact that the Bat let them slip through his fingers. The complex web of intricate planning that involved the DAs office, a carefully planted explosion, a woman's heart and the help of a friend made all this possible. But it was never a good idea to count one's chickens before they hatched. Time was on the essence and even though luck had been on his side, he wanted to increase the odds and so far, they had been in his favor. He was working on a new cocktail of viruses when a familiar voice caught his ear.

"Good evening, professor,"

The Scarecrow looked towards at the source. It was a red haired woman and a jester.

"Ladies. It's so good to see you," Professor Crane rose from his study to greet his two Arkham colleagues.

"So, how was it? Did the Bat fall for the trap?" Crane asked while rubbing his bony and dry hands together.

"Like a shark on a rotted fish carcass," Pamela grinned.

"Oh! Most excellent news!" The Scarecrow crooned.

"And I helped!" Harley thumbed herself on the chest.

"Yes, she did!" Pamela nodded in agreement. "Our little girl is growing up," she smiled. Crane nodded in agreement.

"So I see," he said with a grimace of approval. "Well done, child." Crane patted Harley on her head.

"Yeah, well, at first I went BAM! And then he went THWACK! And then I was all BOOM!" Harley played out the role in a variety of gestures." Scarecrow and Isley looked on like proud parents.

"Yes, she did. She did in him in good, so she bought us time…." Pamela smiled. Crane glanced up in surprise.

"Ah, excellent. Everything is going according to plan," Scarecrow said in a sinister tone. Everything was on a silver platter now. All he needed was one more ingredient.

"Tell me, professor. Are there any more details you might want to share? I am only doing this because I love the freedom that those pigs at Arkham deny me. I feel I am suffocating in there sometimes, I swear!"

"As of the moment, I am afraid not, Miss Isley. Everything is top secret and should be carried through me and me alone as of now," Scarecrow said as he poured the contents of one beaker into a test tube. He marveled at the color that the substances had yielded, from red to yellow.

"Oh really, then?" Pamela said while placing her hand on her hips. "Well, we bagged the Bat just as you ordered and I know you like to keep your little secrets, Jonathan but least give us something to keep us over until the next phase, or whatever the hell you call it," Pamela said in a bitter manner.

"Please, Pamela. I hate to hear your dulcet tones be reduced to such seething anger. It's not good for your natural beauty…."

"Don't patronize me, Scarecrow. I did you a favor! I would like to know what else is in store for us before I collect my payment!" Pamela hissed. Scarecrow sighed deeply.

"If you must know, I myself haven't gotten the slightest idea, myself."

"So…you're not entirely in control of this whole thing? I knew about a third party, but are you implying….?"

"I'm afraid so. But don't worry. He is an OLD friend." Scarecrow said darkly.

"How old is he?" Harley giggled.

Scarecrow ignored her retort.

"Just bear with me, Pamela. Now, if you take your reward to buy yourself some more begonias I would be nothing less than short of ecstatic," Scarecrow said by placing a hand on Pamela's shoulder.

"You'd better tell me what's going on here! I only tolerated this secrecy because I needed to water my giant Flytrap!"

"Please, not so loud. The walls have ears…." Scarecrow said calmly.

"Don't tell me what to do, MAN!" Pamela growled.

"You better listen to him, Isley! For once at least put the women's lib thing away!" A voice chirped from over head. The three rogues looked towards the source of the voice. A few meters in front of them, Nightwing, the Bat's lackey, stood.

"Fool! How did you know?!" Scarecrow yelled.

"That's MY little secret," Dick said in a sardonic tone.

"Get him!" Pamela ordered but not before she felt the wind get knocked out of her which sent her landing a few feet away. In front of her, Catwoman stood over.

"Yuck. I hate weeds."

Pamela let out a low growl.

"Uh oh!" Harley Quinn squealed. It was then that she felt a hand tap her shoulder.

"Oh yes!" The next thing her eyes saw were green knuckles.

"Blast!" Scarecrow screeched.

"Uh uh uh, going somewhere, professor? What about your work?" Dick flipped through some papers which were filed messily on top of the desk.

"Don't touch those you fool! Those are very complex formulas that took me weeks to compose!"

"Sorry!" Dick said sarcastically. He then folded the items and put them into his costume, smiling grimly. "I'll put them somewhere safe."

Scarecrow growled.

"If you want 'em, come and get 'em!" Dick challenged the rogue. On that note, Scarecrow charge at the younger man, pinning him to the floor and striking blows.

Harley wiped the dirt and grime that powdered onto her face. Coughing she stood up.

"Hey! No fair!" Harley yelled.

"I thought it was. I even tapped you on the shoulder," Robin said dryly. He attempted to land a punch onto her face before she leapt from where she was standing to another part of the compartment room.

"Now THAT'S FAIR!"

Selina and Ivy eyed each other with seething hate.

"You just don't know when to quit, do you?" Selina growled.

"Back off, Catwoman! This does not involve you!" Poison Ivy responded.

"Oh, I believe it does!" Selina replied before she lengthened her whip and aimed it at the female rogue's direction. Pamela responded to the challenge by stretching her arms outward which made her forearms grow and stretch into an inhuman fashion. They were roots and they were aiming for the Cat. Quickly, Selina tried to get out of the way but Ivy's root arms reached around Selina's ankles, dragging her towards her. They were aiming for her neck as well. Selina struggled against Ivy's superhuman arms. A sadistic grin graced Ivy's face in deep satisfaction. This was for getting back at her at the apartment complex for the Aztec gilia.

Her body ached, her world was spinning. She could feel her bones crushing. Selina was suffocating underneath that pressure, but she still had the consciousness to keep her at bay. It was not until she was in close range that she was within striking distance and swatted Ivy across the face. It made Poison Ivy lose concentration momentarily and loosen the roots that squeezed Selina. As Ivy grabbed her face, Selina took advantage and turned her attention towards the oil lamp and chemicals nearby. There had to be something of value here but they had to get out quick. It was like a mad scientist's office come to life. Various formulas scribbled on the chalkboard, notes, and lots and lots of gizmos that you would find in a lab. Quickly, she collected some of the various notes while Dick distracted Scarecrow. It was then that she noticed a little black box.

"NOOOOO!!" Scarecrow bellowed.

It was the cue that she needed. It was valuable and she had to steal it.

She grabbed the prize possession and as soon as she did, she wrapped the whip around the oil lamp causing it to break free from its harness and land in a chemical concoction. The result was instant as a fire immediately broke out. It was like they were battling in the belly of Hell as the inferno grew and grew.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!" Scarecrow yelled once again.

Harley and Ivy ceased and desisted. Quickly, they all scrambled for the closest exit. Scarecrow and the two women took an off way while Selina, Tim and Dick took the main entrance. As soon as the three made their way out of the secret cave, a large explosion signaled the end of that hideaway.

"What were you thinking?!" Dick roared.

"What? I knew exactly what I was doing!" Catwoman replied angrily.

"You could have gotten us killed!" Nightwing retorted.

"What and you were thinking that we were going to make a magical exit? Please," Selina rolled her eyes. "It was the only way we could lose them, and besides I got us a souvenir," Selina pulled out the little black box. It was about the size of a medium length book, it was fairly thick too.

She handed it too Nightwing.

"Give it to him," Selina said solemnly.

"I'm sorry I misjudged you," Dick replied.

Oswald Cobblepot wasn't one to entertain guests at this hour, but his new client said that the affairs were very important and the amount of cold hard cash simple too much to ignore for 'serious' guests.

The Penguin poured a batch of wine and turned towards his guest.

"I assure you, normally I do not keep the Iceberg Lounge open as of this hour but my managers insisted that it was very pertinent. It takes a lot to catch the eye of Oswald Cobblepot, my dear," the Penguin cooed.

"Thank you for taking the time to consider our offer Mr. Cobblepot," the woman in the shadows replied. She was wearing a red business dress that showed off her shapely legs. He could tell her face was finely chiseled, like it was carved by the angels. Her voice was as sweet as a psalm.

"Please, call me Oswald," Penguin interjected.

"Mr. Cobblepot," the woman said with a fine and elegant accent. Her voice bespoke spices and incense. "We are interested in dealing business with a man of your caliber. The leader only chooses the best and since you have such a reputation, we have chosen you."

The Penguin took a sip of his chardonnay.

"You are being too generous, my dove. Please, do go on…" The Penguin nodded.

The women pulled out a suitcase and opened it. She pulled out a packet of cards.

"As I was saying, although your commerce has been responsible for such a successful amount of profit, we ask that we keep our matter in dealing with you in secret," the woman replied. It sounded like an angel, Oswald thought to himself.

"Be that as it may, may I inquire as to why you would like to keep out trade private?" Oswald asked as he shook the glass.

"We just ask that you do. We will pay you double if you would like," the woman in the shadow responded. She shuffled the cards with one hand.

"My dear, you have the beauty of a dove, of course I can't refuse your request." Oswald noted that Chester, one of his many pied cockatiels was getting close to the mystery woman and putting his head down towards her.

"That means he likes you, and that means business is good to go!" Oswald exclaimed. "Of course you know this means that we have to talk insurance policies."

"Of course, of course," the woman responded. She shuffled the cards with one hand while she momentarily petted the cockatiel. "You should have no fear when dealing with us, Mr. Cobblepot. Our commerce requires nothing but the best. No questions asked and besides. I always hold the winning hand," the woman said in a sultry voice.

"Most excellent news!" The Penguin mused. "Although there is one small detail, I am afraid I did not get." The Penguin grabbed a single file. "Your name…is it Head, correct?"

"Talia, Talia Head."


	30. Why So Serious?

Author's note: I don't own, so please don't sue.

Hey everyone, I just have a really bad case of writers' block, RL drama and school related stuff that's been keeping me distracted. I have about 15 other one shots and story ideas that are brewing in the witch's pot. Any who, enjoy this little chapter. It's been in my head for the greater part of the year and I thought I might as well move ahead. In the meantime, I hope you distracted yourselves by reading my other works! Hugs n kisses! This is NOT crackfic so if you are looking for porn or mindless smut look elsewhere, but for the sake of THIS chapter and for laughs, I will break my own rules.

Pairing: Batman and Joker

Era/setting: Post crisis 1985 for the most part.

Genre: Suspense, action adventure, drama, romance, noir, psychological

Feedback: Please

Archive: Just let me know.

Recommended readings: The Game We Play by Dark Jester, Throwaway Card by Killing Joke, Joker's Playmate by Jokerlady, Path of the Jester: Inner Demons by Jokerlady, The Cake Games by kokoronaitomi.

Originally written 8/31/2008

* * *

Bruce climbed into the bed. After a long day dealing with Board Supervisors, directors, stock dealers and a boarding room war on the third floor of Wayne Tower, he was ready to rest his weary head on a cloud soft pillow. A quick shower and a warm dinner had for the most part lessened the tension he usually went through as Gotham's billionaire philanthropist but it did nothing to deter domestic issues, namely the one sleeping on the bed before him. For a whole two days Joker had not so much as talked to him. His ego was blown as was the playboy's cover, or so he felt. It was not so much as how he said it but the way he said it. It was too late to bring it up now. He didn't want to think that he burnt his bridges but he figured it would be worth a shot to get the clown to talk again. He would have never have thought that he would miss that parrot-like talent for the gift of gab. With no words exchanged, the tension in the air was thick. If apprehension had a smell, he was in need of a week's set of baths.

He was reminded of the times when his mother gave him the cold shoulder when he was caught with his hand in a cookie jar. He wanted another oatmeal raisin morsel but Alfred told the young Master that he was done for the night. He had succeeded in getting past the butler who was distracted with laundry duties but he could not escape the hawk-like gaze of his mother. It was as sharp and pungent like spice. Perhaps that is why it hurt so much. When someone you love ignored you it was excruciating punishment and it hurt now as much as it did when he was six. It meant not being taken seriously. It meant that he had failed.

Bruce cleared his throat nervously in hopes that it would rein the Joker's attention. It failed. He lay there in a very still manner. It was as if he was holding his breath on purpose. No answer. It was egg in his face. He wanted to tell him that he had good news in that it appeared that the bacteria had no reached advanced stages and that it might go into recession. But for him, it felt like telling an advanced staged cancer patient that the protein markers had stopped. Joker would not give him a glance except from the occasional brush off or quick turnaround. He had good reason. It was shame and Joker sensed it like a cat. It did not have to be said. Bruce was a man of fact and logic. Joker was the opposite. Oh, he was rational, in his own twisted way, but he was very creative and nonlinear.

Bruce shuffled in slowly into the bed, trying not to awaken the other man. Joker barely shifted when the extra weight as applied to the mattress. He let out a small sigh of disapproval. It was a small prick into Bruce's ego. He slowly edged himself towards the clown until he was close enough to look at him from overhead. The once menacingly dark grin was now reduced to a fraction of its shadow. Small arches formed over the Joker's eyebrows and lips closed tightly. He was way too hard. Bruce could not help but notice. A low rumbled escaped from Joker's throat. It sounded like a warning sign. It said CAUTION.

Bruce the playboy may have been shy around the scorned clown but the detective inside of him wanted answers and he wanted them now. He could not go around being ignored when he was doing all this hard work for an ungrateful jester. He was like a spoiled child and again, misused words got the best of both of them and he was ready to end this cold war. Communication now was frosty at best and their bond frozen. There was no way he could get answers or at least have some peace of mind with an angry clown in his midst.

"Joker?" Bruce spoke softly just behind the harlequin. No dice.

"Jack?" Bruce replied again. A small sound came from the Prince's throat. It sounded more like a forced acknowledgement rather than a tick from adventures with the Sandman. At last, Bruce could not take it. There would not be one more night.

"Oh, come on, you are not fooling anyone…" Bruce said finally. Joker shifted from his position. He was still not facing Bruce.

"If you want to ride the Joker Express I am afraid it's closed…." His said with a throaty purr.

"Ouch," Bruce said with a sarcastic tone. The clown's eyes snapped open. He was not amused. "I was not talking about that…." Bruce began. Joker sighed bitterly.

"Then why the hell did you wake me up for? I was having a wonderful dream where I was playing pin the bomb on Harley!" Joker shot back. At least his sense of humor was still there.

"I just wanted to see how you were doing," Bruce said nervously. It was better than nothing he supposed.

"I am doing just peachy, darling. I thought you knew that! Unless you found some lesions where the sun doesn't shine I am not interested…." Joker said caustically. At least Bruce couldn't take it. He was giving the clown an inch and he took a mile.

"Look, I am trying here and you're not helping. If you stop acting like a spoiled child then maybe we can work something out!"

Damn damn damn. Wrong words. At that moment, Joker gained strength and hoisted himself into a sitting position, eying the playboy face to face.

"We? Excuse me?" Joker said acidly. "Acting like a child? Moi?" Each word was like a sharp jagged edge into his stomach. No matter, he could get this under control, but even then, it would not be as easy as detonating a bomb. Joker was at best a sensitive being. At worst, Merry Christmas and Good night!

"Look who is calling the kettle black!" Joker spat back.

"I am trying here and you are not helping," Bruce said in his most calm tone.

"Oh, I know. I just think you should try harder!" The jester hissed.

"What?" the playboy responded.

"You heard me. You think I am just sitting here looking pretty alongside your trophy room?" Joker replied darkly. God, he hated it when he played dumb. It was like herding cats.

"When did this come about?" Bruce replied. Joker was a master at monopolizing conversation.

"When you did not answer my question specifically the other night…." Joker said in a low voice. He crossed his arms, placing his hands on the silky bathrobe he was borrowing and glared at the other man.

Well, it was better late than never.

"And that was…?" They said so many things he could not remember anymore, but he had a good idea what. He just needed the specifics.

"I have three words for you, pal. About last night…" Joker began, hoping that Bruce would finish the sentence.

"Oh, not this again, Joker…." Bruce exhaled deeply.

"I don't care if you were duking it out with the Donald or bought three markets from Japan off after two hours, I won't be finished with you until you answer me one simple question."

Joker moved from his sitting position to his side. He wanted to give the Bat his full attention. He could tell that the other man knew where this was going. Bruce inhaled deeply, ready to handle what Joker threw at him.

"Are you ashamed of what we did?" Joker said in a soft dulcet tone. It was the first time in days that Bruce had heard that voice. It meant that he still had a chance.

"If you keep looking back, then you can't walk straight," Bruce said automatically. It still had not gotten the monkey off his back. Joker pulled himself closer. It was like getting a closer look at a hungry shark's profile.

"That was not the answer I was looking for. Too vague," Joker said cryptically.

Bruce sighed. He was caught in the moment. He felt like lights were on him and for a creature used to secrecy and darkness, it created some anxiety. No, he was not ashamed because he did it willingly and consciously. If he was ashamed it was for mere superficial prejudices, like seeing a picture oneself in a drunk manner from a friend's party. If it was shame, it was out of his own volition because he allowed himself to be. He had to admit he enjoyed it. It was something different, that was the primary thought but one look into those beautiful green eyes reminded him why it was not a bad thing.

"I am not….uncomfortable with what we did…." Bruce began. Joker gave him his full attention. "But that doesn't mean I am going to brag about it…" the playboy said at last. Joker's face changed from a stern to a neutral profile.

"I don't expect you too. I was just wondering why you were so jumpy after what seemed to be a good time," Joker piped up. He wiped a green curl from his face. "I can tell you I enjoyed it." Joker stretched himself up from a sitting position and began to crawl over to the other man.

"I already know that," Bruce smiled vaguely. God, he was not used to talking about his previous night's encounters with his other bedmates. Usually they were gone the next morning and forgotten like last night's garbage. "It's just….taking me a little time to….adjust. It's kind of like jet lag." Joker nodded.

Bruce smiled bashfully Perhaps an anecdote could lighten up the situation.

"You know, I caught Robin playing air guitar one time," the playboy stifled a laugh. Joker smiled. The little bird and his garbage music, oh what a treat!

"You should have seen the look on his face, like a deer in the headlights…" Bruce added. The Clown let out a small hearty laugh. "So you see, it wasn't so much the act itself that bothers me…" Bruce said with promising vigor. The Prince cocked his head sideways. It was kind of hard to tell whether he was taking this seriously or not, based on the hazy look on his face.

"I can," Joker said finally. "We all have our little secrets. I won't kiss and tell," Joker said softly before planting a kiss on Bruce's cheek. Bruce sighed and savored the clown's hot and soft lips that graced his flesh.

"I just didn't expect it to feel the same…." Bruce said dreamily as he looked ahead, seemingly ambivalent about Joker's trail of kisses.

"Mmmhmm," Joker replied as he planted more around Bruce's jaw line and neck.

"I must admit….I didn't think that I would…be so into it…." The philanthropist added. He placed a hand on Joker's back, keeping him in place while he decorated his skin with tender pecks of affection.

"Mmmmmmm," Joker said languorously with his eyes closed. He savored the skin around Bruce's collarbone.

"I mean…..it felt different but it…stayed the same…God…"

Joker smiled to himself. He was falling for it like bait!

"A little lower…" Bruce demanded. Joker followed the order and trailed his lips and tongue from Bruce's shoulder to his chest, showing no signs of stopping. Bruce let in a deep sigh. It reminded him of the drops of water in the shower but this was much better. Joker smiled to himself as he concentrated on his administrations. He placed his thin white hands on the other man's chest, trying to keep his balance. He then arched himself back so as to get a better look at the other man before he continued. Joker went down from Bruce's pectoral muscles down to his toned stomach. It was a very sensitive area for Bruce which made him hold on to the patch of green hair close to his torso. Joker ran a wet tongue up and down his six pack. Bruce let out a low groan. It was then that Joker smiled devilishly and giggled to himself before he continued teasing Bruce and aimed lower to every man's weak spot.

Bruce coughed when he felt the warmth tickle him in his most private area. He writhed a bit but kept in place as the clown continued massaging him. Bruce's throaty response was music to the clown's ears.

"Having fun are we?" Joker looked up hazily at the other man. His muscles were tightened as he tried to restrain himself. Bruce arched his hips up. He did not want the clown to stop.

"Keep your shorts on, cowboy. There is plenty to go around…" Joker said teasingly before he continued and took Bruce's entire length into his mouth. Bruce let out a gasp. God, it felt so good. Joker began to tease the member while keeping an eye on the Bat from time to time.

Bruce was in heaven. He could have sworn that he felt a hum that was Godsend but his eyes snapped open before he realized that it was his iPhone that was ringing. He reached over to check the ID of the intruder.

It was Dick.

Oh, God. What could he say? He had been avoiding him like the plague. Best make him go away like a fly and tell him that he was….caught up in events.

"What?" Bruce barked into the speaker.

"Woah, cool your jets, it's just me," the former boy wonder responded.

"What is it, Dick?" Bruce said laboriously. _Couldn't this idiot call at a better time_?

"Nothing," Richard said trying to sound innocent but not without catching the interesting sounding interception on the other line. "I was just wondering how you were doing…"

"Fine," Bruce grunted. It made Dick's ears perk up. Well now, it seemed as though he really catch Bruce during an….awkward moment. Judging the pants and weird pauses, Dick decided that it could be one of two things, either Bruce was working out using four bull elephants as weights or he was constipated. The former boy wonder took it upon himself to investigate the source of Bruce's…..distraction.

"Working out?" Dick smiled.

"Ugh, yeah…." Bruce said, out of breath.

"Okay, now. I just wanted to let you know that I got something for you….." _And that I am going deliver it personally_.

"That's fine…." Bruce said, struggling to keep his breath.

Okay, so it wasn't a workout because if it was then his breathing would be consistent. It was as if he was making an effort to HIDE what was causing his reactions. Dick knew if he asked him what he was really doing, Bruce would fabricate it. Whatever it was, Bruce was being a greedy bastard.

"You sure you don't want to lower the speed on that treadmill, big guy?" Dick said, trying to hold a laugh. He did not want to let this go. He was already imagining Tim's face when he told him about this indiscretion. Bruce was always a man of top form and physical perfection. He was disciplined personified. Knowing that he was in some sort of entanglement made this exchange all the more sweeter.

"No!" Bruce bellowed. He took his face off the phone and hissed back, "S-stop!" Joker giggled.

Dick looked at the phone in a bug eyed manner. Those were some of the most interesting sounds that he had ever heard. He tried to contain his laughter.

So, I guess Catwoman decided to make a house call, Richard Grayson thought.

"Okay, now," Dick began, still smiling. "I just wanted to let you know." He was half tempted to offer Bruce a diuretic when he heard a very manly grunt on the other side of the line. It was then that Richard Grayson's face changed from one of trying to hold laughter to all out confusion.

"Um, yeah. Bye."

And he clicked.

Bruce was out of breath when he hit the sheets, covered in sweat. Joker curled up next to Bruce. His hair was now a tangled mess.

"Who was that?" Joker smiled sweetly.

"An old friend," Bruce said darkly.


	31. Youth Gone Wild

_Author's note: Hey, everyone! First off, I like to extend my appreciation for you all for putting up with my tardiness and delays. I have gotten so many messages from you and I really really appreciate them all. They keep me motivated. No, I did not abandon the story. There were real life variables as well as creative ones that made me put it on hold. I am in my last year at UCLA and it's also my most stressful. I had personal things to attend to which affected my mood greatly and in turn hindered the writing process. I hope you enjoyed the one shots I threw out in the meantime. I wanted to try new pastures and I am glad I did. I did not want to give you a lackluster product just because I had the time. No, I think you all deserve better. I wanted to make sure I got it right and I wanted to use that to make up for my long delays .I came up with this piece and I hope it makes up for my lack of timely professionalism. _

Title: One More Chance

Pairing: Batman/Joker

Rating: M

Genre: Psychological, noir, action, adventure, drama

Continuity: Post Crisis 1985 when things were good.

Recommended readings: The Game We Play by Dark Jester, The Cake Games by kokoronoitami, Throwaway Card by Killing Joke, and Path of the Jester by Jokerlady.

_I would also like to take the chance to promote a new project I am working with Jokerlady. It started out as a laugh during one of our chats. Basically it's us taking our our 'frustrations' on the Bat fandom in general. My sample, 'Another day at the office' is the first part. I make no apologies with what was said. Some might call me rude, crude and lewd but none of that can take away how much fun I had writing that piece. It continues on with Jokerlady's Case Study: Joker vs. The World. Basically it's a parody where we make fun of the writers in the industry and fans in general and yes, I do get hazed and according to the source herself, there will be a third installment_.

0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

It was a few hours after the call.

Bruce is busy at his table, mixing chemicals and checking for more stats on his database. There were a few blips here and there, most notably around Bristol County and the East End. Selina, thank you. Even if they looked like minor incidents at least things had been more or less on track. Still, the back of his mind pondered if all these random events had some sort of deeper purpose. Were they distractions for something even bigger? Even if his body felt slightly refreshed after the previous night's exchange, his mind was strained like gears without oil. All of this was fazed when he heard that dreadfully beautiful falsetto toned voice.

"Do I know who it is?" Joker said playfully. He lay down on his side, looking like a kitten that just discovered string.

"You might," Bruce said sternly.

"Is it the president?" The clown asked, batting his eyes.

"No," Bruce replied.

"Is it that guy who runs Microsoft? I am pretty sure you are chummy with him…" the Jester pressed on.

"No," Bruce said with a stifled laugh.

"Hmmmm," the harlequin said to himself. Well, if it isn't a rich stiff he wanted to kill it must have been someone far more personal. He loved surprises no doubt and yet, he hated being left out in the cold. Bruce's warm smile cooled that desire to press on even further.

"Is it the commish?" The clown said slyly. It was well worth the risk.

"God no!" Bruce replied in a raised tone.

"Okay, okay, sheesh, lighten up!" The jester responded as he grabbed some fabric and wrapped it around him.

"Okay, I'll stop. You know I am doing this because I am a sucker for those baby blues, right?" Joker said while he licked his red lips.

"Enjoy them while you can because I am going to be here for quite awhile," Bruce smiled before he turned back.

"Um, hey, I just wanted to say that I really appreciate what you have been doing for me, I really do. Even if I act like a kid on Ritalin, I hope you understand that I am forever in your debt," Joker said with a soft smile.

"You don't have to be so melodramatic about it. If anything, I would say it's a miracle for you to put up with my shortcomings," Bruce admitted. They were sharp words that critiqued his vision of himself. The Batman was a perfectionist, forever seeking answers and never settling for second best. He was not a failure, but he was just an image, a projection. He was a cover. Bruce Wayne was human, and humans are fallible. He didn't want to accept that he failed the Joker and yet, he admitted it and right in front of him.

"Hey, it's no skin off my back and you are NOT a failure. You are just experiencing a setback. We all have those days you know," the clown purred into the playboy's ear.

"You are rather, accepting of all this. I am surprised," Bruce replied warmly and patted the clown's thin white hand.

"Well, when things happen, there is a big arrangement in priorities. I can't go around with an axe to grind forever, except for Harley."

"She got me really good right here," Bruce reached back to touch his temporal area. Joker scoffed.

"I swear that girl has this bad habit of destroying what is mine!" Joker cupped his hands around Bruce's face, holding him close to get a better look at the epicenter of the hit. "Isn't that like women?"

"You can say that," Bruce said vaguely, he tilted his head to the side to let the clown examine him, even if it wasted precious seconds.

"Oh, like the Cat never stole one of your toys? Remember what happened the other day?"

"That's just Catwoman being Catwoman," Bruce replied. He just was not in the room for mindless gossip.

"Did she ever steal something more….personal?" Joker said with a raised brow.

"Yes," the playboy stated simply.

"Do you feel the same way for her now?" Joker leaned back to get a good eye of any nuance in emotion that would dare cross Bruce's face. It was like watching a race track with a bet on the side but on a more personal level.

"I care a great deal for her. There were times when things got serious, but due to personal reasons on both our parts, I cannot be with her." Bruce admitted.

"Do you think she sees it the same way?" Joker spoke in a tone just above a whisper.

"I am sure. Selina isn't the type to be tied down. She needs independence and I admire her greatly for that." Bruce said sternly. Truth be told, he still loved Selina a great deal. Even she came from the dregs of society, she was still one in a million. She saw eye to eye with him, almost, but being on the opposite sides of the law and her being more fancy-free in her style contradicted his need for discipline and self control. There was no doubt that still had an imprint in his heart, but the fire was not there anymore. At best, they were now allies.

"And what about daddy's little princess?" Joker hissed.

"Same," Bruce replied quickly. "It just could not work out."

"Hmmm, you know what I find interesting? You get involved with two women on two opposite extremes and I am sure there have been happy middles."

"Love is a feeling, and feelings are ephemeral," Bruce said in a dark tone. "That does not mean that they are easily disposable."

"I see, and may I ask, where am I on that list?" Joker said while he crossed his arms.

"You have always been taken seriously, even before all this."

"That's not the answer I am looking for…."

But before Bruce could go further, a loud buzz was heard and broke Bruce out from his concentration. Damn, someone was at the door and Alfred wasn't around. He went to check with the AutoVisio setting.

It was Dick. Damn it. He mentioned that he was going to visit and off all times to say it, when he was distracted.

"I'll get this!" Bruce replied and headed straight towards the entrance. He had to have this under control and he was not going to avoid Dick this time or else suspicion should arise.

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"Hey, Alf!" Dick smiled at the elderly butler.

"Master Dick, so good to see you!" The elderly gentleman replied and let the boy inside.

"So how are things going on around here? Is Bruce around?" Dick queried as he made his way inside.

"I am afraid he is at a business meeting right now. The economy has been in a bad recession so no doubt he is drafting up plans to lift up spirits just in time for Christmas," Alfred smiled as he took the former ward's jacket and placed inside a closet.

"I see. Has, Bruce been acting strangely lately? Have you noticed anything?"

"He is always been that way, I am afraid," the butler responded automatically.

"I know that, I mean. Well, has he been acting up MORE than usual," Dick pressed on. He cradled a small white package in his arms.

"He has been keeping to himself more than usual. I really cannot comment I am afraid."Alfred quickly piped up. He had a million excuses up his sleeve that it came naturally for him. Still, he felt sorry for blatantly lying to the lad he helped to raise.

"Well, when you see him-! Hey!" Dick replied.

"Hello, Dick!" Bruce replied upon seeing his former sidekick.

"Long time no see!"

"Same here," Bruce said sternly. His voice hinted at a hidden strain but Dick knew better than to play with it. This wasn't going to be a confrontation. Even if he had all the reason to believe that Bruce is involved in more ways than he would like to admit, it wasn't the wisest choice to corner him. He was like a tightly wound spring.

"Um, yeah. Hey, listen, Babs and I are going to Christmas Parade and we were wondering if you would like to go with us? It would be a good chance to promote the latest at Wayne Industries."

"Dick, I-I can't. I have been….very sidetracked." Bruce said with all that he could muster.

"I see, well. It would be a good chance for you to get out of that cave…"

"I have not spent all my time in the cave," Bruce said sternly. The tone in his voice suggested another layer and the detective skills he helped groom on the boy were picking up.

"Uh huh, " Dick said sardonically. Alfred stood between both men and gazed on. "So what have you been doing besides not hanging around your fortress of solitude?"

"I have been at work," Bruce stated simply. It was a dangerous dance that was getting too close for comfort and it was then that Dick decided to take it to another level.

"Your day job or the other one?" Dick pressed on. The warm atmosphere from earlier had suddenly turned as chilly as Alaska.

"What do you want, Dick?" Bruce said finally.

"Nothing, I am just wondering what is going on with you. I didn't know that that was a bad thing. I guess I missed the memo."

"What's that you have in your hand?" Bruce barked.

"Oh, this? Just an early Christmas present I wanted to give you," Dick pulled the packet from under his arm to give it to the other man.

"What is it?" Bruce asked.

"Beats me, but I know that Scarecrow cared a great deal about it when I yanked it from him," Dick confessed.

"You fought the Scarecrow?" Bruce looked up at Dick with a dead gaze.

"Yeah, and Robin and Catwoman helped me with Ivy and Harley Quinn," Dick counteracted.

Here he was going at what he felt was a snail's pace and not only did Catwoman do her part but Dick and Tim as well?

"What were you doing fighting the Scarecrow?!" Bruce bellowed.

"Helping you, that's what!" Dick shot back. "And if you ask me, we are busting our butts out there and what are you doing? Spending time with your playmates!" Dick spat back.

"I have been doing just as much, Dick, and I appreciate what you are doing," Bruce replied as he tried to compose himself.

"If you were grateful you will let us in on what's going instead of keeping us out. All of those guys running around like a pack of wild dogs. What's been distracting you, Bruce?"

"Don't think I have been sitting down there lollygagging, Dick! I caught the Riddler sometime back and I had a scuffle with Quinn and Ivy two days ago! How do you think I got this?" Bruce pointed to a lesion-like bump on his forehead. Dick's eyes widened at the confession.

"Yeah, well, if you are going to have more than plateful in your hands, you can always ask us! Don't leave us out in the dark, Bruce," Nightwing said softly. "What's going on? What kind of secrets are you hiding that I haven't heard before?"

"Oh my goodness, is my oatmeal ready yet?!" Joker called out from the cellar and made his grand entrance. Three sets of eyes landed on the clown prince who had turned one of Bruce's bed sheets and wove it around his shoulder to resemble a toga.

"Oh, unexpected guests, how quaint!"

Bruce covered his eyes with his palm. This was not happening, this was not happening.

"Bruce! What the fuck is going on-!"

"Watch your language, son. Let's not be rude. The elderly are present and they have very sensitive ears," Joker giggled to himself.

"You rotten bastard!" Dick pointed out but not before Joker reached for a steak knife, the very same one he held earlier when he was beguiling the old man and pointed it at the former Robin.

"Watch it! Don't make me take you out Julius Caesar style!" Joker hissed.

"Jack, stop," Bruce said calmly.

"Et tu, Brucie?" Joker replied sweetly.

"Jack? Bruce? What is this some kiddie code name or something?!"

"No, it's the real deal, junior and your daddybat has been taking VERY good care of me," Joker said suggestively as he walked behind Bruce and ran his thin hand up and down his light blue polo just on top the abs. Dick cringed. He did not want his mind to go to that dirty idea but the Joker's bed hair said it all.

Dick's mind raced with flashbacks. All of what he had just seen did not add up to what he had been trained to do especially with a shark like the one in front of him. Did Bruce forget about what he did to Barbara, Jason, Sarah and Zatanna all for a lay?

"Bruce, you can't be serious…" Dick said solemnly. The image of what he had just scene did not compute with all that he had known. It was like having the rug from beneath you get pulled out. All that was sacred was now defiled.

"Believe me, I wish it had not come to this," Bruce stated simply.

"How am I supposed to believe that when I see this? Did you forget about what he did to Barbara, Bruce?"

"That was different. He's changed," Bruce said quickly.

"That's what they all say!" Dick barked back. "This, this is sick!"

Joker yawned.

"Seriously, do you people ever evolve? You're a good looking guy, I am sure you experimented in college…"

"That does it!" Dick yelled before he leapt and pinned the skinny clown down. Immediately, Bruce tugged at the Joker whilst Alfred pulled at the younger man. Dick grasped and squeezed at the Joker's neck while the clown scratched and batted at the young man's smooth face. There would not be any bloodshed for he had just cleaned this kitchen.

"Master Richard! Please!" Alfred strained.

"I'm-I'm fine Alf," Dick said as he wiped some blood from his lip.

"Guess this is the thanks I get for being helpful," Dick said in a spiteful voice. "I'll show myself to the door, Alf and thanks for the cookies."

Alfred sneered at his master and his friend. He had just about enough and what had transpired just blown the cap off the bottle. No more lies, no more cover ups.

"Now see here, Master Bruce!"

"Save it. He's just an angry kid," Bruce replied as he helped Joker up.

"He may be a fiery youth but he is your lifeline and he had the grace to actually present you with a relic and this is how you show your gratitude?"

"Not you too, Alfred," Bruce asked.

"Master Bruce in all my years in debt your service I have put up many a front for your benefit and I never questioned your motivations and I still retain that view. But after what I had just witnessed tonight I just might have to do some reconsiderations," Alfred replied before he took up a casket of laundry.

"And your new blouses are ready in the pantry. Sir." Alfred said bitterly.

Joker let out a conceited huff before he grabbed an apricot and began to munch on it. He then made his way downstairs, humming to himself.

Bruce just stared at the floor, in shock, awe and disbelief. He just lost two more lifelines.

_Coming up! Barbara confronts her past demons. I hope you like it. I made it just in time after midterms. I can't believe that the second anniversary is coming up soon. I do intend to finish this you guys and I hope that you all enjoy the ride. For those who requested part two of chapter twenty six, I just wanted to let you know that I saved all of those messages in a file. They are very very precious to me. _


	32. Trial by Fire

_Author's note: Hello, everyone! Happy New Year!! I hope you all got drunk or did something fun at least! I'm sorry I couldn't update sooner. RL, academics, personal crisis, stupid people online and other things distracted me but like the Elton John song goes, "I'm still standing". Thank you all for reviewing, adding, and doing all those things an amateur writer like me lives for, I mean, appreciates. I hope you all have been enjoying my other works in the meantime. If you have any questions, concerns, comments or want a spoiler of some sort, feel free to PM, email or kick me. As always, flames and hate mail should be delivered in a purple box. I also wanted to mention that writing this story has been a challenge, emotionally, intellectually and creatively. You have no idea how many times I scrapped ideas because I didn't think they would be good enough for you. I think you all deserve nothing but the best, so for those who had the patience to wait when I came back from my sabbatical, I say thank you._

_I have decided to lift the embargo for the second part of chapter twenty six after some thinking. All I ask is that please for the love of God, don't get caught. I remember when I used to look at things that I wasn't supposed to and got caught and believe me it was a nightmare. I still won't post the private chapter due to the site's rules on NC-17 content. I have had some questions regarding this and for me, it's about personal responsibility as I have seen this modeled by other writers and as my experience as a mod. If you want to request the chapter, write me a message at slytherinshannonATgmailDOTcom. I usually respond within twenty four hours and now that the Winter Quarter will start, that means I'll be gone most of the day, so don't worry if you don't get an immediate response._

_Hugs and kisses!_

_ETA: 8:07 PM. Spelling error fixed! Thanks Drakken!!_

Title: One More Chance

Pairing/Characters: Batman, Joker, various

Rating: M

Genre: Suspense, psychological, drama, action adventure, noir, romance

Feedback: Sure.

Archive: Just let me know.

Art requests: I have gotten so many of these, yes! God almighty YES!!

Reccommended readings: "The game we play" by Dark Jester, "The Cake Games" by kokoronoitami, "Path of the Jester" by Jokerlady, "Throwaway Card" by Killing Joke, "Slipping into Entropy" by Razedtothefire and LoonyLucifer.

* * *

Joker was filing his nails, looking content as he did so. Bird boy was squirming. That more than made up for the pain that he had caused to his trachea. For years that brat was a thorn on his side and today, he finally got his just desserts. Joker looked like the cat had just eaten the canary and did not notice when his lover walked into the cave, hovering over him like a shadow. The clown looked up with a face full of pride, a look that said, 'yeah, I did! What are you going to do about it?'

The stoic response before words would come out of that mouth was something that he had gotten used to by now, so it did not faze him. Hell, he was used to this for more than the last ten years. It was practically rehearsed.

"What was that all about?" Bruce bellowed.

"What?" Joker responded in a sardonic and daring manner. "It's not like you can keep me as the world's biggest secret. You can't ignore the eight hundred pound gorilla in the room, or in this case, the white clown in the bat cave.

"You couldn't have even held your tongue, just for a little bit?" Just for me, even?

"Uh, excuse me?" Joker cleared his throat and stood up, poorly challenging the Dark Knight in stature and physical demeanor. With his bony finger, he tapped onto the toned chest which produced nothing more than taps for the other man. "I did not intend what has just transpired. You think I was waiting on purpose? I had to tinkle and you were taking too long," Joker crossed his forearms.

"Didn't the fact that I was taking too long imply anything, like maybe I was distracted?" Bruce responded on a cool but controlled manner, despite every fiber of his being wanted to do the opposite.

"How the Hell was I supposed to know, Bruce? I am not a mind reader. I may be a lot of things, baby, psychopath extraordinaire, America's most wanted, wife beater, your sworn enemy, and your lover but I am not a damn psychic!" Joker hissed.

"Still, you should know all this by now. If I am not here, it's because I am doing something important!" Bruce barked back. He was like a volcano slowly seeping.

"And you should know that I am not a trained animal conditioned to follow your orders. He was going to find out eventually. You have been acting so nervous and so out of control its almost tragic….and pathetic," Joker said in a dark tone.

"What did you say?" Bruce responded in a more familiar tone akin to his alter ego. The Prince's eyes adjusted into ones of mild fear, for it was something seeing him transform like that and at the flick of the switch.

"I said that you have been getting messy lately. You are not on time, you are more fidgety than ever and you could not even distract bird boy. Where is the sleek and stealthy Dark Knight? The one I fell for and the one that promised me the moon?" Joker hissed.

"He's out now, so he put me in place to take care of your ailment," Bruce shot back. Joker grunted.

"Really? Then let him know that I will be out of town so to speak and that he can leave a message after the tone."

"Joker, where did this entitlement complex come from?" Bruce yelled back, his face barely hovering over the pale man's.

"When you decided to blame me for your shortcomings. I have this thing inside of me and I am the most wanted clown and you turn all emo on me!" Joker replied angrily. "I swear, for every positive thing that you come up with, you get sent back twenty steps!"

"If you are that concerned about all this, then why don't you try being a little more proactive?"

"What, you mean like being physical? I can't. Lesions. See?" Joker said with a face full of pride and showed Bruce his markings. Oh my God, they almost looked leopard-like.

"Why did you not mention this sooner?!" Bruce barked as he scanned Joker's arm. How could he have missed…oh, yes. It was dark. There were some things couples did in the dark that made everything else seems so unimportant, and now he regretted it unbearably. One little indulgence and he felt chained.

"Because I did not want to burden you with more problems, and you claim I don't think of you, but I do, Bruce. I am just not the troubadour type." Joker sneered. He pulled up the robe over his shoulder.

"So what else have you been hiding, Joker? You have any more Aces up your sleeve?" Bruce responded bitterly. It was one thing to have Riddler outfox him, for now. It was another thing to have had Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn escape his grasp. However, the Joker keeping his secrets was something that tested his endurance more than lifting two hundred and fifty pounds of gristle and studying the art of Tai Chi.

"Nothing, dearest, nothing at all. Why do you surmise that?" Joker said in a cheeky fashion.

"Because if you have been faking these injuries, surely you should wonder why I am curious if you have been faking anything else…" Bruce trailed off.

Joker's jungle green eyes seethed with rage and his face contorted into one of disgust. He spat.

"Let me tell you something, old friend," Joker replied in a bitter tone of voice. "I may have faked a relationship with Harley, I may have shammed my death a few times but there are two things I would never fake, orgasms and what I feel for you!"

He had to keep his temper in check. He did not want another blowup like the last time, for the last thing he needed now was abandonment. He needed Bruce but at the same time, he could not let go of his old nature. He was a melting pot of psychoses and emotions. It was one thing when Harley got him his clean socks and got him a warm, well actually burnt meal. It was another thing for Batman to just drop him like a hot potato in the midst of all this. Still, he could not hide what he had wanted to say for the last few days.

Truth be told, Bruce was losing his edge. Not only had he gotten sloppy in his work, but he was also more anxious, more unpredictable and worse of all more angry. Although that last part was an inherent part of his nature, it meant that Bruce, the Dark Knight himself, was out of control and showing more resentment was his coping mechanism. It also meant that he was nowhere near where he wanted and that meant that the Joker himself was in trouble. While Bruce coped by using anger, Joker was the opposite and employed humor to undermine those urges. In spite of all he had done in the past, Joker was still human. He just had a less conventional way of expressing himself. He tried to mitigate the situation by being playful but Bruce would have none of it. How the hell was he supposed to know that the brat would show up? Did he even think that maybe he was hurt and that he wanted to check on him? It's not like he snooped around in his files, though he had every opportunity to do so. That should say something. Joker was a recoiled spring and all this straining had been taking a toll on him.

"Somehow, I don't know if I should believe that or not," Bruce said in a darkly prophetic manner.

* * *

Barbara Gordon had distracted herself by following up on some cold cases. Solving these sorts of things was like going fishing. You put the bait out on the river and wait for the fish to come. It was all about the waiting game and although she had gotten some promising tips and hits, she could not get her mind over the really big case that everyone was ignoring like the elephant in the room. Until now, that is. She had gotten some tips from Catwoman that looked promising and the big break from the last battle was off to a good start but of course, like ashes into air, it evaporated into nothingness. She even went as far as to cross reference patrons at Pandora's Box, former henchmen of the Joker and even look into Ivy's old greenhouses for something but turned up zilch. Ivy did have a penchant for coming up with several hiding places but now it seemed as though that they had been abandoned for months. Smart move, Ivy, but like termites, we will find your source.

Barbara even had a theory that Ivy, along with her gal pal, Harley Quinn were working as independent Doppelgangers for now and that all of this had been choreographed, judging by what Tim had described to her. It was too crazy but it just might work. After all, didn't Sherlock Holmes have a theory that said something about the craziest theory being more probably than, say, one that you couldn't prove. It was too much of a coincidence that they had met up with Crane at that place. Time to back track.

Riddler luring Batman into a little trap and escaping at Pandora's Box, check. Perhaps it was a clue, some kind of foreshadowing, if you will. It served as a kind of warning, but what did he say and why hasn't Bruce told us, unless of course, he is pulling an OMAC project on us. Surely that time when he got the entire JLA mad at him for keeping tabs on him should have been a lesson, but like they say, old habits die hard.

Mad Hatter making a surprise guest appearance at the gala a few nights back, check. Why do I have a feeling that that was a chance for him to start up some trouble to distract and it is too much of a coincidence that he led them to Harley and Ivy?

Harley and Ivy making their moves, check. There is certainly a strange pattern. Whatever it is these pack of hyenas are planning, I will find out, even if I have to get Dinah and Helena involved in the case.

Out of all these cases, still, there was one that still intrigued her but still tested her tolerance anytime his name was spoken. Where was the Joker in all of this? He seemed to have made an escape from the hospital awhile back but it was still out of character for him to remain this quiet. He would have given a sign unless of course, he was really dead or something happened to him.

As Barbara was about the savor her cup of noodles, the door behind her burst open. Dick came bursting into the room, out of breath and a face full of hurt. Oh my God, what happened to him?

"Dick!" Barbara cried out. It wasn't until he got down on his knees and rested his face into her lap that she saw the collateral damage. "Dick, what happened? Talk to me!"

"Babs…..it was…oh GOD!" Barbara's face contorted into one of pure intrigue and confusion. What did Dick see that made him so weak on the knees and most importantly, what did Bruce say to him.

Barbara shushed her younger peer. Never had she seen him this exasperated. The last time he acted like this was when he found out about Jason, believe it or not. It would take a lot to break a man like him, so what happened. She tried to remain as cool and collected with the young man who threatened to sob in his lap. Whatever it was that made him this way only tested his faith.

"Goddamn it, Grayson, talk to me! What did you see?!"

"Barbara!" Dick gasped. He grabbed onto her arm for support. It was a very firm grab, almost on the verge of breaking it. "Barbara! Bruce…..an..and….th-the Jo…!"

"What?" the former Batgirl replied. "Jo-?"

"JOKER!!" Dick finally admitted.

He was alive? Not surprised but what about him? What has he done? Is Bruce all right?

"Okay, okay, what about the Joker?" Barbara tried her best to remain calm and concise.

"Ask Bruce!" Dick coughed. The image of them together sent bile up his stomach. He dare not repeat what it was that he saw.

Okay, since he wouldn't talk, best do as he says. It was then that Barbara put all the other cases on freeze or hibernation and decided to do some hacking. He won't respond to phone calls and neither is he the type to respond to messages. If the Bat won't come to you, you have to go to the Bat.

* * *

Joker was having a straight face showdown with Bruce. Neither had spoken so much in the last two minutes. The words Bruce spoke only pierced at the Prince's delicate psyche because he thought he had the man under his thumb and all figured out only to find out that he was not the only one with clandestine observations. It was egg on his face.

"You are undermine what we had Bruce? All that bonding, all that talking and you still think that I am…gasp, _faking_ it?" Joker said in a calm manner but the look of mock shock with his hand over his bony chest made it difficult for Bruce to take seriously. "Maybe you should take a good look at yourself, pot. If I recall correctly you used the same tactic with that number from Africa. What was her name? The whore of Babylon? How do I know that you aren't applying the same treatment towards me?" Joker spat back.

"Now hold on a second. I have been very open with you. I told you my darkest secrets, stuff I would not even tell Robin or Batgirl and that's the best you can do, Joker?" Bruce scoffed. "You think that the world revolves around you, don't you? Newsflash Joker. It doesn't. I have been fighting tooth and nail to try and figure all this out and you know what? I can't. You want to know why, because I am human! I am trying my damndest to try and help you and you don't even show one iota of gratitude. All you do is push and beg and you want to know something else? I have listened to you, Joker. I have had to stop my investigations just to talk to you ONLY because you wanted it, so stop complaining about me not finding anything solid because I have been heeding your cries!" Bruce bellowed.

It was a blow to the Prince's pride. He was undermined, out of control and worse of all, insulted.

"So now you are telling me that you only talked to me because you inherently did not want to?" Joker said in a low voice. It was almost like a growl.

"I did it to please you period. It doesn't matter what my intrinsic intentions were. I did it to please you. I did it to keep you happy." Joker scoffed.

"Now look who's talking about faking?" Joker shot back.

"You don't get it, do you?" Bruce shot back. He could swear that this was like trying to train a three year old to use the potty, except Joker was a thirty year old grown man who knew what he was doing. It didn't matter to him if he was hearing the truth, he wanted only a fabrication. He was like Blanche Dubois, he wanted magic, not realism.

Before the Joker could respond, the computer awoke from its hibernation state. The screen went from a blank black to a white bloom. Both men turned to the attention to the screen. A few seconds later, the bust of a red haired woman appeared and she did not look to happy at what she had just seen.

"Damn", Bruce whispered to himself. Joker stood back, sneering at the uninvited guest.

"So, it's true." Barbara said coolly. Her eyes never wandered away from the unmasked Dark Knight.

"Barbara…" Bruce responded but she cut him off.

"Don't bother, Bruce. I have my ways. Like the Marvin Gaye song goes, I heard it through the grapevine." Her stone faced demeanor was unlike her usually sunny nature when she donned the cowl. He was looking at the face of judgment.

"Barbara, please listen. This isn't what it looks like," Bruce replied.

"Oh, it doesn't? Is that what you told him? He was practically on his knees sobbing, Bruce. It's as if his whole reason for being was washed up and hung out to dry and now I see why." Her voice was critical. Her tone was unforgivable.

"Barbara, I have this under control. I have been doing investigating and decided that it was not best until the appropriate time." Bruce responded, trying to keep his poise.

"And when were you intending to tell the rest of us, Bruce? Where you going to invite us to the party? The rest of us have been busting our butts trying to help you, just to let you know…"

"And I am very grateful for that but you have to understand that there are some things that you might have not been prepared for so I saw no reason to tell you."

"You got that right," Barbara scoffed. She had not so much as even turned to the Joker's direction. She did not want to give him what he craved the most. He did not deserve it. The monster did not deserve an ounce of what he cherished the most.

"Barbara, I'm sorry," Bruce counter responded. "I did not mean to hurt you, that's why I did not want to tell you."

"I'm not so sure anymore, Bruce," Barbara sighed.

Even though she was his protégé, her computer and hacking skills were second to none and the fact that she was thirty feet tall and had a booming voice, it made even the Batman feel small by comparison.

The Joker stood at the corner, not wanting to face the intruder who was actually someone he had met in the past. She was about the right age and the red hair was a dead giveaway. For someone he shot in a vulnerable part of the body she was doing fine it seems. He scoffed in the corner because he could smell the tension was actually because of him than because of what these two were babbling about.

"I just, I just can't believe you! You didn't think I would find out about it eventually?!" She yelled back.

"Barbara, I'm sorry, again, I really regret all this…."

"What? Me finding out or you hiding that monster down here?!" Her eyes threatened to water up. No matter how hard she tried, she could not keep the hateful demons inside of her. She had wanted to say this ever since she found out that those two had a laugh right after her accident. It was a sick cruel joke all over again.

"EXCUSE ME!" Joker finally snapped from his brooding self. Barbara turned her attention to the Joker. Her eyes seethed with equal anger as they shifted from the hero to the villain. "I'm right here so don't act as if I can't hear you, girl!" Joker yelled at the screen. Barbara looked unmoved at the clown's outburst.

"I have nothing to say to you," Barbara stated simply.

"Oh really, because I heard it all right here, darling, so don't play dumb with me. I may be a lot of things but I am not stupid, so if you have anything to say to me, let me have it. The worse thing I can do is shoot the screen, so you have nothing to fear, dear, okay?" He knew he stung her. Her eyes shut when she heard that powerful word. Shoot. She could still smell the cordite and feel the heat and cold as it raged through her body. It was years ago but it felt like yesterday.

"Have I struck a nerve, dear? My, my. It seems to me that you think you can boss me around with your big head so to speak. Who would have thought words still hurt?"

"Bastard," she said simply. "The both of you."

"Oh, shut it! I could have done A LOT more to you, my dear, and believe me when I say that it was nothing personal. The media might have made it worse than what it was, but trust me when I say that I could have done A WHOLE LOT more collateral damage to you! Just be glad you were just bait and nothing more!" Joker spat.

The Joker had shot her down once, physically and now he did it again only in a verbal manner.

Barbara looked down solemnly. It would have been worse if she was indeed raped, but to be dehumanized as bait was something she could not stomach.

"I'll be in my office, Bruce. Just don't bother calling." On that note, she logged out.

Bruce turned to the Joker with a look full of rage.

"What, was, that?" Bruce said in an angry tone.

"The truth," Joker said in a nonchalant manner. "It hurts, don't it?"

"So you only like truth when it's convenient to you or when it's fabricated, am I right?" Bruce retorted. Joker shrugged.

"You said it, not me."

"In other words you only like it when you say the truth, or at least your version of it but don't like it when it's turned back to you?"

Joker pulled out a cigarette, lit it and began to smoke.

"Does that even make a lick of sense to you, Joker?"

"Watch the merchandise, Brucie!" Joker shot back. "Let go, or else I will scream!"

"Joker…." Bruce started.

"Bruuuuuuuuuuuuuce…." Joker responded.

This was insane. Joker may be male, but his mood swings, irrational nature and psychoses were worse than an ovulating woman's.

"What do you expect me to do, Bruce? You think that just because I gave you the nights of my life that you expect me to be nice to all your brats? I may be crazy, Bruce but even I can see the irrationality of that? They don't like me so why should I bother?" Joker shot back. "I never asked you to babysit, Harley for me."

"I did, a few times just to let you know. If anybody should be giving parenting advice, you are the last person on this Earth, Joker.

"That's not funny!! Just a moment ago you were asking me to be nice to her and a few moments before that you said that she would not exactly be thrilled to see me!"

"Respect is different than hugs and kisses, Joker. You're smarter than that."

"I know, I was just testing you," Joker said after he took a puff from his cigarette.

"You could have shown a little more respect," Bruce began. Joker laughed.

"After what she said about me AND in front of me, Bruce? Are you kidding?" The clown replied.

"You shot her, remember? Do you expect her to do back flips when she sees you?" Damn it.

"Ouch Bruce. Way too slow." The clown said in a derisive manner. "It's called moving on."

"What about that time when you saw their costumes. Am I supposed to surmise that you moved on?" Bruce replied.

"Are you faking all of this Joker?" Bruce bellowed.

Joker gave Bruce a look that implied that all those water works were nothing more than crocodile tears. The Joker was not in the mood to be challenged, hence his defensive and sharp tongued nature.

"What about the time when you looked at those costumes? What about those tears, Joker? Did you fake them too?"


	33. The straw that broke the camel's back

Title: One More Chance

Chapters: Multi

Pairing: Batman/Joker

Genre: Drama, action adventure, noir, psychological, romance

Rating: M (violence, language, adult situations)

Feedback: Please

Archive: Just let me know

Flames: Not funny unless dog poop is involved.

Recommended reading: The Game We Play by Dark Jester, Throwaway Card by Killing Joke, Path of the Jester by Jokerlady, The Cake Games by kokoronoitami.

* * *

"No way," Tim said while shaking his head in disbelief. "Are you serious?" He managed to repeat for the fourth time all evening. He was taking it better than Dick and Barbara but his stifled reaction only hid his true feelings. Cassandra Cain, Batgirl, who looked stoic beside him and in her costume was also reserved but her body language hinted at shock and awe. The two junior members had been summoned by their elder teamsters for the news.

"This is Bruce for fuck's sake! He's not supposed to mess up and look at him!" Dick yelled. He put his hands on his temples. His mind was a race of emotions. The man that he put up on a pedestal, the person he sometimes considered his mentor, his father, was hiding the most wanted man in Gotham. It was a perversion of everything he had come to know, everything he had learned. How could Bruce get all buddy buddy, amongst other things with a serial killer?! "He was just right there, practically MOCKING me!"

Barbara shushes him.

"Yelling won't help, Dick. I saw him too…" she trailed off and lowered her head. Everyone's eyes averted towards her.

"Woah, and then what happened?" Tim queried. This was like one of those scary stories he heard when he was a kid, but this was all too real.

"I thought I would forget about it, but the wounds are still there. I can forget the name calling I received because I wore glasses. I can forgive the taunts because I was more of a bookworm than the others. I can forget Katarina Armstrong for beating me in a few races, but I just can't forget this," Barbara said as a matter of factly. For someone who seemed to have, for lack of a better word moved on, it was still something that was close to her heart. It was like looking at the rotted wood of what you thought was a good table and lifting the linen cloth. "I looked at the Devil in the face again." They all turned to her.

"So what do we do now?" Robin piped up. All of this felt like a game of Twister but with some deadly twists like tightening your windpipe if you didn't get the right move. Everything had to be put on hold. For the last two nights he was on patrol but of course like any good son, he went to bed early because his mentor wasn't there to protect him and now he found out why Bruce was MIA.

"We put Scarecrow and everyone else on hold for now. Right now, Bruce needs our help," Dick responded. He turned to Barbara for more encouragement.

"Are you sure he wasn't held hostage or something?" Tim asked. This was like a dream, a really really distorted one at that.

"No. He wasn't. They were acting all buddy buddy," Dick responded and stopped there. He dared not to go any further than he wanted. It was bad enough that he saw what he saw he wanted to spare Barbara and Tim from any extraneous details. Maybe this was what Catwoman meant when she said that she knew him better than he ever would. Does that mean she knew too? Is that why she didn't mention anything?

"So what you are saying is that Bruce has the Joker in the Batcave, the very same one that he swore to defend with all his life?" Tim prodded on. His elder teammate nodded in approval. Wow.

"That's why we are getting involved. I don't care if this breaks Bruce's dire need for privacy. We have to help him." Barbara replied. She crisscrossed her fingers and rested her chin on top of her hands in deep concentration. "Why go after a few demons when you have the Devil himself right in front of you?" She said cryptically. All their priorities had to be reset and their roles were now reversed. Instead of being the altruistic example, they now had to be stealthy in their approach and it would not be easy. In essence they would have to be the hunters if you will, but the bottom line is that this was going to be done for Bruce's sake. It was for his health and for his sanity.

"So what's the plan? This is the Joker we're talking about and how do we get Bruce away from him?"

"That's a good start." Barbara replied.

"Divide and conquer," Nightwing added. Barbara, Tim, and Cassandra all nodded in agreement.

"Did you ever see that video that took place in the Okavango Delta with the lions, the crocodiles and the buffalo?"

"Yeah," Tim responded.

"That's what we are gonna do, except we don't let go." Nightwing said in a dark manner.

_Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think! I'll try and update as soon as I can. Your responses, emails, adds and reviews are all very heartwarming. I feel slightly embarassed that I wrote more frequently in 2007 but went at a snail's pace in 2008. Now, I won't make any promises but I will try to update and finish the story by the end of the year. This is my last year at UCLA. The other day I was thinking about when I started writing this thing and how I started way back in my first quarter and how I am still hear all thanks to you guys, the readers. Give yourselves a round of applause for making this amatuer feel good while getting her degree. In the meantime I hope you have enjoyed my other pieces. If you have any questions, comments or wanna poke me, please let me know! I love listening to your thoughts and suggestions (even if I don't show it!)._


	34. Fission

Title: One More Chance

Pairing/Characters: Batman/Joker

EDITED EDITED EDITED!

Feb. 28th 2009

Please see message below!

* * *

The Joker still refused the other man standing in front of him. He was occasionally glimpsing at the other out of spite and teasing but the novelty was beginning to wear out.

"Was that really necessary?" Bruce barked at the chalk skinned man. Joker's response was nil.

"You really need to teach your brat some house manners when guests are here." Joker shot back. "I was willing to play canasta until he attacked and YOU saw that, old friend."

"That's because you provoked him," Bruce responded, trying to keep his tone cool and neutral. The Joker was a firecracker and any essence of responsibility would send him into a conniption that would put Hurricane Andrew to shame and the last thing Bruce needed now was a paroxysm from Hell.

"You don't greet old friends by giving them ring around the collar, Bruce…" Joker said silkily. His voice had gone from one of gentility to one of dark cynicism. It was obvious that there was a rift and Bruce needed a panacea for it right now.

"I am not going to get into a merry go round about this. What happened, happened. It wasn't right for him to do what he did but you also should have maintained your poise and kept your mouth shut!" Bruce responded coolly. Joker scoffed at the suggestion. That was like asking for a dog to stop barking.

"But it's my nature, darling! And was that supposed to be a compliment, yes? I am not a delicate flower, Batman so don't treat me like a child. If someone stepped on one of your shoes I doubt you would maintain that stony exterior with the liveliness of a dead man two days later…"

"Just….forget it…" the other man replied and turned around. It was like arguing with a spouse over washing the dishes.

"So, you're running away again? Was I supposed to play possum when your baby threw his rattle and acted up? You obviously don't know me well enough, Batman " Joker shot back. The words were like poison as they entered Bruce's consciousness and dissolved into a burning pus of hate. It sliced through everything he had set up and was destroyed just like that. The suggestions from earlier didn't bother him, but they clang in his ears like hellish church bells. The implication that the man staring back at him was an itinerant twisted his psyche and rattled everything that he held sacred. It was like finding out that all that tai chi training was thrown to the wind. It was like finding out that concrete could be destroyed by a simple puff of air.

It was just like the time when he saw the bullet and smelled the cordite that fateful night, twice. Just like tonight, twice. Everything he held sacred was taken away in a slow and painful death. The man he cared for was a stranger once again. The bond was threatening to break. It was like living in house of straw when you believed it was steel.

Had the Batman once again underestimated the Joker again? The thought was unbearable.

"I don't know you," the philanthropist said darkly. "I don't know you anymore, Joker."

The words registered in the clown's thought processes but he refused to give them any sort of legitimacy. Obviously what he said earlier was said in jest, just like when Dorrigan made the bet to Aurelius if he could remove the rocks. Obviously, Batman did not read literature. The clown's mind raced as his psyche fought between making another sarcastic remark and an emotional rant. He knew he was right. The brat had no right to touch him in such a manner, but obviously he took precedence in the Batman's house, leaving him to sloppy seconds and the clown did not like that one bit. The Prince was entitled to first servings. He HAD to have the Batman ALL to himself. The brats were unnecessary repercussions of this arrangement. All in all they did not matter because they would never understand and the clown knew but he had a Devil may care attitude about that. He had acknowledged that he violated a young girl and killed a boy by cracking his skull open, but he would be damned if he actually felt sorry for them.

It was one thing to acknowledge things. It was quite another to acknowledge them.

The tears he had expressed were out of hurt for hurting the man he cared for and NOT because of them. They did not matter, HE did. They were just collateral damage. He was not crying for them, he was doing it because he finally recognized that he had hurt the man that was trying to help him.

The words were like an anvil on his foot. Joker saw that he was slowly and surely losing the Bat. His heart began to race as he felt the anger seethe within him like a maggot breaking out of its shell. It meant he was not being taken seriously anymore and that he had been reduced to a whiny brat rather than stay in first class coach. His point of view did not matter because he was obviously second place now and all because he was standing up for himself against old pixie boots.

"What are you saying?" Joker replied with a sour tone. His mannerisms teetered between wanting to know the secret and obliviousness.

"Read my lips Joker."

"I have all these years, Bats. I am not stupid," the clown hissed again.

"Then read this, I'm out!" Batman shot back. The clown gave a sneer at the answer which quickly into one of concern.

"Where are you going?" He asked as he followed the Batman.

"Out." Batman responded as he got into his sleek black car.

"Bring me back some Chinese," Joker retorted with a wicked smile across his face.

"Not funny," Batman barked back. His monosyllabic responses were slowly getting the better of the Prince.

"Why so serious, Bats? I am just having fun. Isn't that what clowns do?" Joker said as he batted his eyes. The effect was like nailing jell-o to the wall.

"No, you're just running away from the real issue. It's obvious that you don't understand the repercussions of your behavior." The Dark Knight said out of the window opening. The engine roared with life and the clown had only precious seconds now to try and convince the rodent to come out and play.

"Now let's be reasonable, Bats. You're gonna leave me in here, all by myself with all your toys?" Joker said with a tempting smile crossing his face. He was hoping the effect would stop the Bat in his tracks because leaving him alone with all those wonderful toys would be crazy, now would it?

"That's exactly what I am doing," Bruce stated simply. The Joker huffed. He was losing momentum and the Bat showed no signs of stopping.

"What if I download some porn, oh those viruses would do some very nasty things to all your files! Why, somebody down in Minneola, Florida could steal your them!" The jester replied.

"I have spyware," the Bat replied simply. It was like talking to a wall.

"You can't be serious," the Joker said warningly. It was quite rude, like having a friend just walk out in the middle of a chat session.

"Bye," the Batman stated simply before zooming out of his habitat and into the night, gone for hours more than likely. The Prince felt used an abandoned, like a used tissue. He would hear the end of it.

Meanwhile, hidden in one of the many clefts of the stony habitation, Selina Kyle watched with utmost enthusiasm of what had just transpired. The events beforehand had piqued her curiosity and a low smile crossed her countenance. So many secrets and so little time.


	35. Caught in a spiderweb

**Title**: One More Chance

**Characters/Pairing**: Batman/Joker

**Era/setting**: Post crisis 1985

**Feedback**: Much appreciated. Flames are only good for hot air balloons

**Archive**: Yes, just let me know

**Author's note**: Forgive the burps in the previous chapter. I am still very interested in your thoughts.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own. The characters mentioned here are sole property of DC Comics. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

Dick Grayson could feel the pounding inside his chest. It had gripped his physical and mental being as he stood by the ledge, carefully calculating his next move. After few hours' deliberation, it was decided that it was to be done tonight. Everything else had to be put on hold and one of the first things that they had to do was cut off the finger that had been infected with fungus to save the rest of the hand. Time was now precious. Everyone, including Barbara, Catwoman, Tim, Cass and even Jean Paul Valley saw that this was not only breaking their code of ethics because it involved Bruce's trust, it was like committing a breach of contract while committing fraud and getting twenty five years to life.

It did not matter. This was for his own sanity and safety. For the rest of the group, it was about changing the squeaky wheel on the car. This time, it wasn't about a moral code or respect of privacy. This was literally about life and death. Everything was just topsy turvy. He could not understand why Bruce was being more noticeably jumpy. Granted, being paranoid to him was practically second nature but his detective schooling taught Dick Grayson otherwise. Originally he brushed it off as him being a little jumpy because of a combination of work and not to mention having a whole host of super criminals running free like a virus. Words could not sum up or prepare him for what he had seen. Try as he might, he could not stomach the image that crossed his mind in the kitchen and worse still was that dreaded telephone call that he made. He quickly brushed off the image that threatened to loom in his head.

He had just surveyed his bags contents that were going to be used for the evening's activities. Mace, rope, chlorophorm if it got really bad, and finally, a heavy rubbery material that lay at the bottom of the bag. It must have weighed at least twenty pounds. It was no wonder Bruce was adamant to the point of being obsessive about those three hour workouts.

He received tips from Oracle and Catwoman and he was now moving in for the kill. It was like a combination between To Catch a Predator, a SWAT team, and one of those nature shows where they catch pests in people's homes, specifically the ones that have really large teeth and can break bone in one bite.

The skies were dark, it was the perfect time to go on the hunt. The sound of static had broken Dick's thought processes.

"Yeah," he whispered into the communication device.

"You, okay?" a female voice responded, sounding concerned but at the same time reassuring.

"I just saw him leave and I am waiting just a few more minutes. I'm waiting for Alfred to make dinner, which is always done halfway in between Everybody Loves Raymond." Dick replied to Barbara.

"I thought you told us that he wasn't too hot about the whole arrangement either," Barbara responded while taking a sip from her hot cup of tea. It was going to be a long night and she needed something with strong caffeine.

"I just want to have this done quickly and painlessly and without any struggle," Nightwing reaffirmed into the monitor. He had slowly made his way onto the side of the mansion, following the butler and noting his minute procedure so as to insure him extra time.

"We could have drawn straws, you know…" Barbara replied gently.

"No, no. He's too dangerous. I have been doing this since I was twelve, Babs and this is going to put me on the test." Dick said in a warning tone. This was not Ronald McDonald that they were dealing with.

"I know, I know, but I am just saying, wouldn't you have felt more comfortable if Tim and Cass were there to help in some way? Dick, he's dangerous!"

"I can handle it," Nightwing replied in a confident tone so as to quash any hint of insecurity on both party's parts. "I figured out something…."

"How are you going to do that?"

"That's my secret. I don't want you sending any of the Birds here because the last thing I need is a struggle." Dick responded.

"Dick, what are you talking about? This isn't a birthday clown! This is the fucking JOKER!!" she shrieked.

"I know, but all I am gonna say is this. You can catch more flies with honey than with vinegar." He dreaded the words as soon as he said them but they were necessary. This job was necessary,

And on that tone, the line went dead. He had turned off the signal so as to insure total silence.

He had reached a vine covered balcony on the North wing area of the mansion. He had proceeded to enter the house he had once grown up in and trained in to who he was today. The sights and smells were nostalgic. Who would have thought that over a decade earlier, he would chisel his skills and chase down dangerous members of the criminal element instead of flying over elephants and swinging on the trapeze?

The house was in total darkness, it was perfect camouflage but any kilohertz of noise could tamper with that dynamic. He could feel the sound of his heart beat against his ears and it was slightly annoying but he had everything under control. He had just never thought to encounter one of the most dangerous men on the planet in such an intimate way. This time, Bruce would not be there to guide him. This time, he was all alone. It was like going on your driving test but on a far much larger scale. The only thing stopping him from turning back was remembering what had transpired in the kitchen when Bruce was actually defending the same bastard that raped Barbara, killed Jason and murdered Sarah. It was not the most ethical thing to do, to let emotion cloud judgment but after what had transpired enough was enough. Bruce as never going to put the dog to sleep and if anything, Dick would have to do it. They had both lost their parents, they had both seen crime at its worse and yet, both men stood on polar opposites of the spectrum. Bruce's self righteousness was almost akin to religious fanaticism and it was plain to the naked eye that his transgressions were infantilized tantrums masquerading as egotism. On one hand, he could understand Bruce's philosophy and yet, someone had to take him down. Bruce would not do it for some outdated belief. While it was not as bad as say, someone like Ras al Ghul's world view, the line was crossed and there was no turning back. Bruce crossed that line when he decided to defend the Joker. He threw away everything he had ascribed to was flushed down the toilet that night.

A shining bright light broke Dick Grayson's concentration. He was nearly startled until he recognized that old familiar face after his vision adjusted to the light and deep shadows of the face staring back at him.

"You could have just knocked the door, Master Dick," the old butler replied in a warm paternal fashion.

"I, I didn't want to bother you," the young man responded shakily.

"May I inquire as to the business of this visit in such a fashion?" the debonair old Englishman replied.

"I was hoping you wouldn't see me," Dick retorted and put a palm around his face.

"Does this by any chance have anything to do with our guest downstairs?" He was not going to pussyfoot around. It was obvious that even he wanted the pest out of the house. He felt as though he was tiptoeing around the house he was used to.

"Is the Pope Catholic?" Dick responded in a light fashion in hopes that it would lighten the mood and cut in half the small talk.

"I won't say a word, Master Dick. I'll just tell the Master I was knitting our guest a new set of sleepwear and was distracted by a few phone calls." Alfred responded in a monotone fashion but with a hint of a smile.

"Thanks old man," the former ward responded before curbing around the older man.

"Oh, and Master Dick. Best of luck," Alfred said to himself as he saw the younger man disappear into the darkness and about to enter the headmaster's most private quarters.

* * *

Twenty minutes. Twenty minutes and he still has not returned with an apology for such rudeness. The clown huffed at the direction from where the sleek black Batmobile had taken its exit before he decided to distract himself. In the meantime, he would try to come up with the best way to shame Bruce before tempting and succumbing to his nightly demands.

There was nothing good on the television. Tellyland had been hijacked by reality garbage and MASH was a rerun. What was a clown to do?

"Fey," Joker sighed to himself. "I'll teach you to drop me like a hot potato, Master Bruce!" Joker said in a snide manner.

He went up to the large computer screen, surveying the contents and various colors of light and buttons. It reminded him of a circus but all of this was not funny.

It was because of this that Bruce could not give him the attention that he so desperately craved.

It was because of this….THING Bruce could not deliver and was distracted by more important matters.

Joker saw it as a monster that was holding his Bat back from him. He could not break free and truly indulge if this was holding him back. This machine represented everything that Joker hated. It could not find the cure to his debilitating illness. It could not find the answer as to why Riddler had tricked him. This stupid thing could not even track down the damn Scarecrow, the bastard responsible for all of this.

All of this, Joker felt, alienated Bruce from him, from opening up to him.

"I don't know what he sees in you," Joker remarked at the hibernating screen. He sneered at the fifty foot tall monitor and glared at all its components. To Joker, this was not an addiction. It was a full blown disease that had debilitated the Bat. How many times has he tried to fix it and it would yield no answer?

"You lack spark, you're dry, and you're full of nasty viruses!" Joker shot back at the unresponsive screen.

"Tell me, if you are indeed the brains of this relationship why haven't you helped, hmmm?" Joker growled lowly. "You are just dead weight." Joker said sardonically before picking up a large piece of rock that had fallen overhead by his feet.

"You just get in the way, like a third wheel!" Joker yelled before tossing the rock onto the screen which sent it shattering and bursting to life with electrical currents shooting out of its broken crevice. Wires burst out and bled like veins before fizzling out and finally dying.

"Batman is mine! He isn't YOURS!" The harlequin screamed at the computer and keyboard before smashing it to bits with more pieces of jagged rock and metal.

"I brought him to his knees! Not you! I saw him at his most weak and broken!" Joker declared as he hit and pierced at the metal and broken electrical wiring. The shots were like lightening but it could not match the torrential rainstorm that raged within Joker's mind.

At this point, the clown's hands were bleeding from all the storm and stress. Eventually, Joker stopped beating the lifeless electrical device before stooping down to his knees and began sobbing.

"Damn you, Bruce," Joker said as he yelled into his palms and threatened to hold back tears.

His throat had gone parched and his chest ached. His body was sore. The only thing he wanted was to be in Bruce's arms where he was safe and secure. He wanted to be where everything was under control.

This ruined it all. Diaper boy ruined it all. Joker swore that he would get the little bastard as soon as he could. It was because of him Bruce could not trust him anymore. He invaded their most private space. The bat cave was their secret grotto and he was an intruder.

It was then that Joker noticed a strange dark figure lurker just ahead by the door. He adjusted his eyes and hair as he was staring straightforward at the sight. The tall, dark figure had two points on its head. It was enough to send Joker's heart aflutter.

The figure stepped back. Was it teasing him? Did it acknowledge him?

Batman? Already? He must have left the car out to apologize. Oh, God the computer!

"Batman?" Joker called out at the figure.

The figure offered a grunt but it was more than enough to send Joker's spirits high. He was not ignored.

"Bruce? I-I'm sorry. You do have insurance though, right?" Joker bit his tongue. He could not resist.

"Bruce, talk to me. Answer me!" Joker called out again. This only sent Batman back. He looked like a big black shadow, almost like in a dream. The smoke from the broken machinery created that illusion.

"Bruce, I-I'm sorry…I" Joker began before he noticed the Bat shaped shadow step back quickly. Did it want him to follow? He knew Bruce was noticeably upset that he destroyed his favorite toy so he couldn't be in the mood to talk but would it kill him to make a response? At this point, Joker would kill for a dreaded monosyllabic response that had an audible word.

The figure had reached all the way to the top of the exit close to the kitchen. It hovered over the entrance like a ghost, seemingly waiting for the clown to follow him.

"Bruce! Wait!" Joker called out. "I thought you said I wasn't allowed to play!" Joker beamed as he followed. He did not notice the figure step outside into the lighter room behind the door. Was this a sign of Bruce trusting him? What did all this unusual behavior mean? He was at the threshold but nothing would stop him from being reunited with his Bat. Joker pushed the door open to see a large solid black being loom over him. He saw no profile but that did not stop him from coming close and wrapping his arms around the figure and breathing in that sweet Kevlar and rubber scent.

"Bruce, oh God."

The Bat figure stood stoically as the clown wrapped himself around it. It would be a few more seconds before it would respond by running his hands up and down the clown's green patch of hair. Its response was stiff but warmed up eventually. Joker took no mind for he only focused on these precious seconds.

"Bruce, what are you?"

He was immediately shushed. At this point, the Bat had pulled out a large red handkerchief and began wrapping it around the clown's eyes.

"Bruce? What are you doing?" The clown protested verbally but his body yielded to the act. "Tell me, what's all this? Is it my birthday already?" the clown giggled. It was amazing how only minutes ago, the clown as at a full time rage downstairs. Now, he was purring like a kitten. "Bruce, what's all this about? Where are you taking me?"

"Somewhere," the figure responded in a trademark hoarse-like voice.

"Okay, darling but you really need to take a cough drop!" Joker giggled. He then felt himself being lifted up like a blushing bride. Joker could tell that they were going out. What could have possibly changed his mind? It didn't matter, he was going to get a nice surprise for once!

The ride was about fifteen to twenty minutes long. In that time, the two had not spoken a word. Joker at one point asked about the various possible places before he felt a rubbery hand touch his in a tender fashion. At that point, the Prince remained silent throughout the trip.

Once again, Joker felt himself being lifted up. What could ever possibly induce Bruce to be so magnanimous and gregarious all of a sudden? He felt a sudden chill breach his skin. Then again, he was in nothing but silk purple pants with white pinstripes and nothing else. They were definitely in outer quarters before going inside somewhere. The atmosphere was chilly, almost insensitive. At this point, Joker pressed himself closer to the Bat, trying to find warmth and comfort. They came to a stop finally before he felt himself get set down. He heard extra voices. Who were they?

"Thank you, Batman" one of them said.

That voice, Joker thought. He knew that voice.

He finally felt something loosen and got his vision back.

No. NO!

"Hello, Joker."

It was Dr. Jeremiah Arkham smiling with fake demure.

He was back at Arkham Asylum.

Meanwhile, in the car, Dick Grayson tried to make sense of what had transpired between himself and the clown since they stepped out of Wayne Mansion. All throughout the drive, he stared straight ahead, trying to comprehend the clown's psychosis.

_**Please lemme know what you think! I'll try and update as often as I can! I decied to write this on a whim and I hope you liked it! I need to get the story rolling, guys!**_


	36. Scarecrow Tales

Title: One More Chance

Pairing/characters: Batman/Joker, various.

Rating: M for adult situations, language and violence

Archive: Yes please, just tell me.

Feedback: Pretty please

Disclaimer: I do not own, so please don't sue. This was written for pure entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement is intended. Batman, Joker and all related characters belong to DC Comics. All I own is a few toys.

_Author's note: Hello, everyone. I decided to write this chapter on a whim and in between my finals. They are take home but I just had to take a break to sit down and write another part of this seemingly never ending saga. Once again, I apologize for the burps two weeks ago. I will do my best to hurry up and finish the story as fast as a can. Too many things stood in my way but that shouldn't be an excuse. I apologize to anyone who has been waiting patiently. I appreciate it. I won't make any promises but I will do my very best to keep updating as quickly as I can. If you have any questions, comments or anything at all, let me know!_

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* * *

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It had been a good fifteen to twenty minutes since he had left his private dwelling but the Dark Knight could feel the clench in his stomach. A part of him had come to regret dropping the clown like a hot potato. He made a small promise to himself that he would talk things over with him and then they would try to figure out a way to get out of this. They could not keep this a secret forever. He could trust Alfred that he would never let it loose. The man was practically a father to him and although he went from mildly tolerant to less than pleased with the houseguest, he was positive that the butler would keep that detail under wraps. It was like walking on glass. Every move now was calculated. It felt as though every breath was monitored. It had begun to stifle his thought processes.

Perhaps that is why he snapped. He was mad at the clown for 'distracting' him from more important matters when he should have been out on the streets instead of making hanky panky with the Joker. Such an idiot, he thought to himself. He made efforts to find answers but they slipped through his hands like a fish. He had not been able to forgive himself for his failures. He was not sure how to take Dick's proclamation that they were helping when they should have been minding their own affairs. They were getting into shark infested waters and without his consent and while he trusted Selina in her own right, he did not like her getting involved in the case. Although her contribution was welcome, something felt slightly off in her generous offer.

Deep down inside, it was because they were undermining his resources and way of thinking and being. The Batman did not need any help.

He pressed onto the gas, hoping that the motion would distract his brain onto more pressing matters. The sleek, black automobile raced into the night, fire blaring from its backside like it was spat out from the hellish depths. Its destination was not exactly a new one, but hopefully it would provide for some answers. Any minute detail, even a hair would yield the most convincing evidence.

The Batmobile finally came to a stop. The warehouse was obviously not used in years but this was no time for a tea party. It was one of Joker's old hideouts. The Jolly Jack and Jill candy factory was built during the Depression. In an era where Charlie Chaplin distracted the crowds with his offbeat behavior, simple little guilty pleasures like the Jolly Jack and Jill factory provided the little escape that people desperately needed in their hours of need, even if it was a cheap indulgence. Joker would eventually add this little piece of real estate years after it was abandoned just before the earthquake hit. It was just one of his many hiding spots back in the old days when he was 'different'. On more than one occasion, they were used so there was still a chance that any remnant of him, or more specifically of Harley Quinn, that would yield the clues that he needed.

It would be unlike Quinn to just abandon an old toy house or candy factory where she and her beau spent so many nights together. She was obviously a sentimental type and any little remnant of Joker giving her the attention she needed would be treasured like a precious jewel. A place like this would be a fortress. Toys, food, clothing, anything that belonged to one of them or even used just once was the perfect bait. There were a few more places that he could try but this one was the closest. He had a few more ideas, one of which included an old trailer where Harley stayed with Ivy during one of her many bouts with the Joker.

The tall shadow walked inside the abandoned warehouse and the smells came back to him. Its scent was that of broken old wood, rotted cloth and death. It was a place that was as ugly as Joker's psychosis before all this. He did not want to be here because it reminded him of the old Joker, a different man, but he had to do this for the better goodness of him. He still was not proud of what Joker had done but this was for his health and nothing more.

A loud creak broke the Dark Knight's silence. It was obviously not him because this was before he put his foot down and applied pressure to the old broken wood. Was it an intruder? He had to be careful. Any sign if his presence would surely ruin his chances of coming back with something.

He then heard the sound of a match striking and a record scratching. The music was Bach, sweet Bach. Whoever this was knew his human weakness but that should not be an excuse for shoddy detective work. Whoever this was knew he was here. Damn it, he was losing his touch. He did not want it to cross his mind that he was getting sloppy, but at the same time, his mind reminded him of his hibernation. On one hand, it demanded perfection and he was shooting himself in the foot and yet another part of him urged him to go on and what had happened was in the past. There was no point in walking backwards. He made a mistake in being distracted. That was done. All he could do now was move forward.

As he did, he could hear the melodic sound become louder. Like a siren it was calling him. This was some sick joke. It was obvious that it was Harley's doing. She would learn to pick up a few tricks from her boyfriend. He came across a burgundy colored curtain. Behind it was the source of that terribly sweet music. Like a heartbeat, it could not be ignored. It was like the tell tale heart and that was the terrible secret. He had to find out and there was no time to be subtle and whatever was behind that curtain he knew would have to be ready for.

What was behind that curtain was beyond his wildest dreams. It was like one of those Chaucerian moments when things were happening out of coincidence. What greeted him behind the curtain was the famous face of no one other than the former professor of psychiatry who specialized in susto, Jonathan Crane.

"Hello, dear Batman," the lanky man responded.

"You!" The Dark Knight barked back at the other man.

"What a surprise, wouldn't you say?" the Scarecrow responded nonchalantly as he shook a glass of wine.

"What are you doing here, Crane? This is Joker's territory!" Batman said in a defensive manner. He mentally kicked himself in the head for sounding protective. He had prayed to the high heavens that the Master of Fear had not picked it up.

"Yes, I am perfectly aware of that, Batman. Please don't spit in my face, it makes for very rude manners," the thin man responded calmly.

"This isn't time for any games, Scarecrow! What are you doing and what do the others have to do with it?" The Dark Knight counteracted. A visible smile crossed the scarecrow's countenance.

"That is quite a riddle, is it not?" he replied. He was like a puppet master and he was obviously pleased to see that someone had picked up that something was amiss.

"I heard that one before. You friend, Edward told me about it."

"Then why, pray tell, did it take you this long to realize it?" The Scarecrow replied.

The words were a slap in the face and punch to his stomach. He had picked up a very delicate issue and the spotlight was on him. Any minute detail that would give Crane ANY hint that he was taking Joker under his wing would be kept under wraps.

"I hope you do realize that in the meantime while you have been lollygagging, I have been able to amass my grasp not just in Gotham but the entire state. Today the state tomorrow, the entire coast."

The Dark Knight stared ahead at the emaciated looking man. Do not let his small stature fool you. The Scarecrow had many tricks up his sleeve and he could easily turn up a marble full of gas. His most prominent tool was that he attacked and took advantage of his victim's altered state of consciousness.

"I'll take your silence as lack of knowledge and it would be my greatest pleasure to educate you. After all, I was a professor and my greatest gift was the sharing of knowledge and I would be pleased to share it with you, my greatest pupil."

The Dark Knight offered a small gruff in response. It was humiliating having to have his secret discovered but that was only temporal. Here the Scarecrow was offering him a chance and a better glimpse to see the big picture. He was also less likely to lie. That did not mean that he was to be trusted but he had come to the point where his enemy had to explain this situation at hand and this was not the first time and he was not the only one. This was no different than when Ivy adopted those kids at Robinson Park or when Joker said 'now do you get it?' It was the only way they could showcase their narcissism and the Dark Knight had to grin and bear it.

"Awhile ago, I made a deal with a very old friend of yours. It seems as though you two had a bit of a rift and he offered me a chance to concoct one of the greatest escapes and moments in history."

Scarecrow had finally confirmed what he had suspected for days.

"To add to the excitement, he even offered to take out some of my colleagues who in recent years have….underestimated me and yes, this includes your precious Joker."

That was like adding salt to the wound.

"What does this person want with the Joker?" The Dark Knight counteracted.

"That I am afraid I cannot tell you, but I will say that judging by his manners when he offered me the greatest compensation over money, freedom, he seemed more intent on revenge than anything else."

So whoever this person was wanted to get the Joker for personal vendetta but at the same time, wanted to reel in the Batman. Who would have a connection with these two? Joker has committed so many atrocities it would be next to impossible to nail down a probable candidate. Whoever this person was had the money and was personally affected by the Joker. Was it a case of getting revenge on him by using Joker as bait to toy with his weakness of saving lives even with someone like the Joker? Was it a case of a person with a bad grudge against Batman who did not come in time when Joker killed one of their loved ones?

"What are you getting out of this, Crane?" The caped crusader barked back.

"Nothing much, other than the precious gift of freedom. I hope you realize that while it is easy for you to dump us like trash in Arkham, it is not one of the most healthiest places to be in, especially if you are a patient…."

The words pierced like knives because they echoed what the Joker had confessed to him. Arkham was a hellhole and even Crane himself verified it.

"It also gave me a chance to meet some people," the Scarecrow smiled to himself. He was of course talking about his lawyer. The suggestion made the Dark Knight's stomach churn.

"She's a nice girl. A bit desperate, but very nice. A bit misguided but perfect for the role."

"You're sick, Crane. You are taking advantage of women's emotional weaknesses for your sick pleasure!" The Dark Knight yelled back.

"You seem more tolerable when Joker was doing that to Quinn and yet, here I am doing the same thing and you jump on my throat. Are we playing favorites Batman?" The Master of Fear hissed back.

The very suggestions of the words were like those pesky marbles rolling on the floor by his feet when Joker or Quinn threw them at him.

"You are acting like this is something new, Batman. Please don't insult me. Did you not forget that according to those poor examples of doctors classified me as a psychopath so going by their logic me taking advantage of a woman's trust is not unusual? Your pet, the Joker is just as guilty and don't think for a second he will change, not even for the poor misguided soul that chases him and begs for his approval." The Scarecrow said snidely.

The Dark Knight did not like the implication that Joker could not change. Then again, his reaction to Dick's surprise visit counteracted that, it did not mean anything. He was in a bad mood. That was it. The very notion of Joker exploiting HIM emotionally was unconscionable.

The Scarecrow had come dangerously close to his weak spot and the worse thing of all was that he could smell it now. Like blood in the ocean, he picked up the scent.

"You seem unusually protective of him, Batman. Why is that? Any suggestion of the Joker and you are as jumpy as a jackrabbit. That is very strange behavior, even for you. Have you been sleeping with the enemy?"

At this point, the Batman had gotten into defense mode. He was not going to breach his most private thoughts but this only made the Scarecrow all the more interested.

"You won't get away with this Crane!" The Dark Knight shot back.

"Not until you answer my question first, Batman," the other man responded calmly. The fact that he was calm and collected through this tirade suggested that he had control and the Batman did not, which insulted him even more. He was a bloodhound and the smell was strong. He was dangerously close.

The Scarecrow could feel the fear emanate from the Dark Knight. Even all the Kevlar and strong vigor could not hide the cowering little boy hiding underneath that overstuffed suit of armor.

The smell was as tempting as his mother's home baked apple pie.

"You know, Batman, you seem out of focus. You know what brought the United States out of the Great Depression? It was World War Two." At this point, he pulled out something small out of his pocket and threw it at the Dark Knight's feet. The marble sized object exploded and produced a gas.

"You need a new focus, Batman." The Dark Knight shielded himself from the noxious gas but it was laced with properties that not only affected the sense of smell. It affected vision as well. Crane perfected it so that no one could escape his trickery. His eyes felt watery, even the protective shields failed to keep the gas from attacking his vision which produced strange shapes and otherworldly images. It was just a nightmare, a walking nightmare. It was nothing more. He had to get out of the environment but the door had been raised to about a thousand feet and looked more like a burning pit of flames. It was just an illusion he said to himself. The hot pinches of flame were only in the mind. It was just mental trickery.

The Dark Knight had finally gotten himself out of the warehouse and applied some remedies for the effects of the gas. He put on a mask with propertied oxygen that was used to assuage the effects of Crane's gas. He drove home with that on his face.

Now he knew and he had to move. He had to check up on some things at home anyway. He had to make some apologies and he had to tell Joker what he had found out.

* * *

As soon as Bruce walked into the door, he saw Dick sitting down facing him. He was waiting for him to come home. The young man's face foreboded something dark and ugly.

"Dick," Batman replied. He proceeded to unmask himself.

"Bruce. I'm, I'm sorry." Dick began. He closed his eyes.

"For what?" Bruce snapped back. "What are you talking about?"

"I-I had to do it, don't get mad at Alfred, please don't…" the younger man begged.

It was topsy turvy all right.

"Dick, what are you talking about? What about Alfred and where is Joker? You didn't do anything to him, did you?" Bruce hollered back.

"Bruce, I'm sorry, but I had to do it. We all agreed that it was for the better good, for you especially." Dick Grayson at this point put his hand on his forehead.

"Dick!" Bruce said finally. "What are you talking about!"

There were only mere inches separating the two faces. At this point, the former ward swallowed hard before he made his confession.

"I took Joker back to Arkham Asylum. It was for your own good."

The words Crane said earlier were nothing compared to what he had just heard right now. It was like a ton of bricks were falling on him. Everything he held sacred was now defiled. The one person he could trust now spat in his face.

"Bruce, I did not know. I did it only to protect you. He was using you and he was distracting you. I had to do it. We all decided it."

"Who else?" Bruce said in his most calm tone. Even that could not hide the raging storm in his eyes.

"Barbara, Cassandra, Tim and Jean Paul Valley," Dick admitted.

It was not just Dick, but his entire family. They had all betrayed his trust. They all knew and now they were getting involved and they had all come way to close for his comfort.

"Bruce, I'm sorry,"

"No you're not. You're just trying to make it so that it was done out of some higher holier purpose when you should have just stayed out of the way!" Bruce yelled at the former Robin, the boy he had raised as his own son.

"But we couldn't Bruce! Damn you, we care for you and it doesn't help if you keep keeping secrets like this! We only care for you and only you! I know you stress that we should mind our own affairs but Jesus Christ, Bruce you need help!"

"Is that supposed to be an insult, Dick?" Bruce replied coolly.

"Yes and no," Dick responded.

Dick did not feel the force of air until after the effect. It was then that he noticed a pounding sensation around his nose and left cheek. It was throbbing and it stung. It affected his senses but it was not enough to deter and register what had just transpired.

Bruce had punched him in the face.

That was the response to his good intentions, a punch in the face.

"Get out," Bruce ordered.

Without hesitation, the young man rose from the seat and proceeded to head to the door. Alfred had attempted to check on the injury but he mildly protested. Looking back, Bruce saw blood coming out from Dick's nose.

"I hope this gets your head out of your ass, Bruce," Dick said darkly. Bruce only stared ahead with an intense hatred focused on the young man. It was not until the door closed that Bruce turned around and fell to the floor to his knees, overcome by grief. He was betrayed by his own son.

* * *

Joker was tossed onto the floor. His body ached with all the 'examinations' and painful prodding of his body. His mind was heavily sedated at this point. In only a few hours he walked in a healthy looking man and now he looked sickly and about to die. His rectum ached from all the prodding and pushing. It was all done to 'update' his medical records. It felt more like physical torture and since he was the star of the asylum, they wasted no time giving the Prince the royal treatment. It was better to be in the Spanish Inquisition. Naked and quivering the clown looked up at the window, wondering why his friend did this to him.

_I hope you like! I'll update as quickly as I can! Please let me know what you think!_


	37. Lost In Translation

Title: One More Chance

Series: Multi chaptered

Characters: Batman, Joker, various

Setting: Post Crisis 1985

Rating: M for language and violence

Feedback: Please and appreciated

Archive: Yes, just let me know

Flames: Only good for cooking outdoors. Personal vendetta emails and death threats can be sent to my email in a pretty purple package.

* * *

Silvia was on her nightshift for the fourth time this week but it was the first time that she had been serving on the area the rest of the staff designated Hell. This was where Arkham kept all its exotic pets and only this week did they finally retrieve their most prized possession. Silvia had a sister who worked at a zoo and was responsible for feeding the large cats. As she got closer to room designated 0801, she more or less wished that she could switch jobs. A security guard who ran the entire West wing of the asylum checked her card and let her in. The asylum had been understaffed due to economic problems and a lot of its most prized doctors had to be let go so now the lower order of the chain had to be responsible for doing their jobs. It was done because of 'budget cut backs'.

Silvia entered the room with a plate full of that day's meal from the asylum cafeteria: boiled fish, potatoes and gravy and pudding.

"Mr. Joker?" She said in a heavy Spanish accent. The room was absolutely dark save for the white light from the little creak that qualified as a window. The room was awfully quiet except for some faint breathing. She turned to the direction of the noise.

The clown was sitting Indian style at the corner of his bed, staring blankly ahead. The nurse approached with some caution. She did want to give off any hint of herself being intimidated. Besides, the guard was out there and he had a weapon that could brandish ten thousand volts if necessary.

"You need to eat, Mister Joker, you are looking very thin," she said in a friendly manner. She had some confidence knowing that the clown was applied with a veritable cocktail of sedatives which would calm his nerves.

He was also chained up and was allowed movement only half an hour a day and the person responsible for THAT job would not be there to work for a few hours.

She set down the meal and placed it in front of the clown. It was like making an offering to a bloodthirsty god in ancient Mexico.

"Well, Mister Robles will be here later tonight so you can move around to do your exercises, okay?" she said in a warm fashion. Alonzo Robles was a three hundred pound wall of muscle. Joker was a squirrel compared to that elephant of a man.

Just as she turned around to turn the hinge of the door, she was greeted with an arsenic laced voice.

"Before you leave, Silvia, can I ask you, did you see Mr. Robles this morning or this week for that matter?"

The notion of the clown communicating with her was like watching a circus on a bad acid trip. She held onto the door, confident that she was several feet away from him and that Tiny, the guard that was on the other side, ready to strike.

"No, no I did not…" she said as she slowly wound up the hinge, hoping to herself that the clown would get the message.

"I suggest that you look over there. You might find something worthy of your interest…"

"I-I better get back to work, Mister Joker, I cannot stay here because I am not allowed to."

"  
Please, just do me the favor…." The Joker purred. His eyes were tinted with a hint of desperation but also of pushiness.

It was at that point that Silvia saw a bloodied hand on top of one of the crates with a set of keys and she let out a scream.

Her few seconds of distraction were the nail to the coffin as she felt the clown's forehead hit hers and that's when he made a run for it. With the seeming lightning speed of a cheetah, Joker ran down the halls of the asylum corridors. He knew the place like the back of his hand and yet he could not help but notice that the place had gone under some construction and given a new makeover since the day of the explosion a few weeks back. The usual crevice or air chute that he would use were now gone. Everything that he had been used to was taken away.

This new asylum was like a labyrinth and he was the Minotaur. It was a cruel joke and somebody would pay.

Joker's mind raced at a thousand miles per hour, trying to come up with a possible new escape route. Some things remained while others were completely wiped out like an etch-a-sketch drawing. He noticed a group of doctors and guards, all armed heading towards his way. The clown ran the opposite way, cursing that he could not zig-zag the way he used to so that he might win this high speed chase. The jester knocked down medicine carts and threw dirty needles from their containers so that it would hinder his pursuers. They were better than marbles at this point.

At this point, the clown had lost his hunters. The bliss lasted only seconds before he would be knocked down to the floor due to his lack of focus in front of him.

The asylum employee was a large burly woman, about three hundred fifty pounds, middle aged and had the temper of a mother rhino to match. She grabbed the clown by the collar. Joker squirmed like a cat but she held him back by his scrawny neck and pants. She looked like Moose, Ventriloquist's new henchperson.

Joker bit the woman on her finger as she was adjusting his weight in her arms. She let out a scream she and responded with a jab to the back of his neck to momentarily knock him down. The clown may have had a legendary immune system but he was still human in body and a jab to the forehead was enough to stop him from causing anymore harm to her.

The clown woke up in a haze. His vision came into focus once again. The blur sharpened only to reveal a set of tables with cotton swabs, several sharp objects used to prodding as well as other devices that would make a patient feel more like an experiment to be worked on rather than an object of pity that should be cured. Joker saw the rhino woman and it was then that he noticed a younger doctor looking over him. She looked fairly young. Dark skin and black hair like a raven's.

"You caught him trying to escape?" she said in a notable foreign accent. She must be one of the new doctors.

"Yes, ma'am," the rhinoceros woman responded.

"Excellent job, Sasha," the attractive female doctor replied. She applied her gloved hands onto the clown's features. Joker growled and squirmed as she touched his face, cursing at her that he could not remove his hands from the tied up position they were in so that they could be on her neck instead.

"Be still, clown," the woman said in a firm manner as she applied the same treatment to his chin, holding him down as if he was a bratty child. Her hands were cold like the asylum floors, cold and uncaring.

Joker spat at the woman's face but he failed to do so because her mask which covered the lower half of her face protected her.

"Feisty one, aren't you Mister Joker?" the woman said snidely. "I take it that you do not play well with others, yes?"

"You would be to if you were constantly prodded and poked like an alien in Roswell you stupid cunt!" Joker barked back. The female doctor seemed unmoved by Joker's language. She turned to the one she called Sasha.

It was then that she noticed the clown's unhealthy complexion. Upon closer inspection of his neckline, she could tell that the Joker was infected with something and it was obvious that it was not taken care of. It was then that she turned around and concocted a mixture containing various antibiotics as well as a few things which looked like herbs into the medicine. She applied the shot into Joker's neck. Whatever it was, it would be taken care. She wanted the clown to be healthy but not out of doctoral concern.

"Did he have any weapons in his room that he could use from mundane objects? Staples from books? Sporks? Nail filings?..."

"No", the woman confirmed.

Although she was wearing a mask, one could see the snide smile that crossed the dark skinned doctor's countenance.

"Let us just make sure. He did quite a number on Mr. Robles and Miss Campos."

With that, Sasha undid the Joker's chains. He tried to kick but failed miserable when she was held back down by three other nurses who had the builds of African cape buffaloes.

Joker was turned onto his stomach and his pants were being pulled down. The doctors could not find any evidence of him brandishing weapons in his room so they had to improvise. Joker's legs were spread. His wrists were tied down to the makeshift bed.

Joker squirmed and let out a small yelp when he felt a cold instrument enter his backside. It was very large and wide from what he could tell. Joker tried to contain his pain in a straight laced countenance but failed to do so when he felt the tool push in deeper into his backside, violating him.

This was obviously not a regular prostate exam. His usual doctor was gentler in his approach but he still looked at the clown with disdain. This felt more like he was in Spanish Inquisition. He kind of wished that he was in front of Thomas de Torquemada instead of this devil woman. At least then he could lie and they might possibly stop.

"Hugo, check his mouth. We don't know if he is concocting a poison that requires warm temperatures," the female doctor warned.

"Yes, madam," the doctor responded.

The Joker grinned and bore it as these so called doctors continued with their 'examinations'.

"Turn up the TV will you, Ubu?" the woman ordered. "I don't want our patient attracting unwanted attention while we are here," the woman said coolly. The other nurses complied with her wishes.

* * *

Bruce tapped his pen on the desk nervously. His mind was distracted from the board room proceedings. Lucius Fox was talking about some sort of stimulus package for the company so that they would not have to cut off too many employees. It was when he got into the specifics and axioms did Bruce nod off and start thinking about the Joker and where he was. He could not save him immediately because he did not want anyone picking up anything out of the ordinary. He had already missed several meetings and get-togethers but he was paranoid now to the point that he feared his get out of jail free card which involved rich heiresses from green countries was running out.

"Bruce, are you okay?" Lucius Fox tapped Bruce on the shoulder. He had apparently dozed off.

"Oh, I'm, I'm sorry, Lucius. I'll get those papers for you tomorrow!" Bruce responded.

"I already have those papers, thank you and I am assuming that you'll miss this Saturday's fundraiser for the local orphanage, yes?"

It was like his stomach had a bull's eye painted on it and Lucius was right on the money.

"I'm, I'm afraid," Bruce groaned. Whether it was out of personal failure or physical strain, Lucius did not know.

"Bruce, is there something wrong?"

That was like asking the twenty thousand dollar question. He could easily tell Lucius all the sordid little details but chose not to untangle that ball of yarn.

"Nothing, nothing…."

"Bruce," the CEO said warmly. "Now, I don't mind running the company for you, that is why I am here. I don't mind staying up until two on weekdays dealing with others but as a friend, I am asking you for your help."

Lucius, dear Lucius. Columbia educated, top ten of his class. He was loyal, he was like family. His warm and caring self was rivaled by that of Alfred but he could not risk embarrassing himself in front of his own friend not matter how hard he presented that silver platter.

"I'm, I'm just tired…." Bruce said. Lucius could see a smokescreen.

"I know you are, that's why I am asking you to tell me what is going on. You missed the past ten of our board meetings and you still have not answered the fifty emails I forwarded to you."

Bruce felt that his world was crumbling down. He kicked himself for being so careless. He hoped that this sort of unsteadiness was limited to his keeping Joker under his wing and not seep into professional matters.

"I-I apologize, Lucius. I-I just can't sleep at night lately."

"I can see that. I caught you sleeping during our meetings a few times, I just chose to ignore it and be nice to the company's golden child. You want to go for a drink and maybe unwind? Whatever it is that is bothering you, Bruce, you're more than welcome to share with me and if you don't, that is okay too. I'm just a little concerned. You haven't been the same in the last month…."

Oh, god, it's been that long?

"I apologize, Lucius. I'll take you up on that drink," Bruce replied.

"There's that smile I miss!" Lucius responded. "Seriously, Bruce, if it involves you burying a dead body, I am here to help!"

"It's nothing like that," Bruce responded in kind.

"I am being sincere here, Bruce. You don't have to keep it in and I am not saying this because I worry about your professional performance but for your health as well. You're my friend, Bruce, not just my colleague."

Bruce returned the quote with a smile. Both men were headed out of the main doors.

"You really think that I killed someone, Lucius?"

"No, I don't think that Bruce, but what did I say about thinking of me as an idiot when I helped with all that special equipment you told me was for, what was it, training?"

It was then that as soon as they opened the door, both men were greeted by a swarm of paparazzi and reporters. Everyone from the Gotham Post to the Gotham Gazette and even TMZ were there. The flashing of lights and questions were coming at them like hornets.

"Mister Wayne! Mister Wayne! Is it true what they say about you and the heiress from Milan? Is she pregnant?"

"Mister Wayne! Will you donate to the stem cell research program at the abortion clinic?"

"Mister Wayne! Mister Wayne!"

"Mister Wayne! Mister Wayne! What do you think about the Joker's capture?"

Bruce turned his face at the source of the question.

"Excuse me?" Bruce responded.

"Dolly Madison from the Gotham Gossip column. We would like to know what you think about the Joker's recent capture…"

"I-I have nothing to say about the subject." Bruce counteracted, trying to maintain the red blush from forming.

"A very close source tells GG that the Joker has been caught at night screaming your name from his cell. Care to comment on that interesting bit of dish?"

Everyone's eyes were upon him. Even Lucius himself stared at Bruce with the utmost curiosity. Bruce was now treading the line between self denial and brutal honest. You might as well tell the truth, he thought.

"The Joker is a sick man. There is nothing I can do." Bruce responded. At that point, he began walking in the other direction, blocking out the paparazzi that bellowed more questions and comments in his direction.

_The Joker is a sick man, there is nothing I can do_

Whether Bruce realized it or not, Joker had caught the words coming out of Bruce's mouth at the very moment. KGOTH9 was set to the entertainment section and as he was being examined in his rectum, Joker heard the words that hurt him more than twenty knives being jammed into his heart.

_The Joker is a sick man, there is nothing I can do._

The words echoed in his mind. There was no ambiguity. It was all black and white. As the 'medical team' was applying antiseptic and iodine to his wounds, the Joker blocked them all out and instead focus on the words Bruce had said about him on national television.

He was disposable. He was forgotten.

Bruce had rejected him and humiliated him on national television.

Joker was eventually brought back to his cell. He stared in a catatonic fashion ahead until the medical team was gone. It was then and only then did the clown finally process what Bruce had said about him and he broke down into fits of sobbing.

Bruce had lied to him

Bruce had used him.

Bruce had abandoned him and now Bruce had humiliated him in public.

He had been chewed up and spat out like bubblegum.

_He is not coming back you pathetic fool! He used you up like a rubber and now look at you! Trash!_

Please don't say that. He is working on a plan, yes, that's it. He is very resourceful.

_If he was, then he would have been here before that whore gave you the royal treatment!_

He is just taking his time, it's too delicate for him…..

_What a load of horseshit! Now, you are starting to sound just like Harley…_

Don't you dare compare me to her

_Why, the truth hurts, doesn't it, Jack?_

Please stop talking….

_Why? The writing is on the wall, Bruce loved you and he dumped you like all the others. He finally got what he wanted and it took you three weeks to realize it!_

Fuck you, clown

_Oh like that is going to stop me. You know I am right Jack. I am the ugly truth that sprouts when the glossy pictures starts to rot from the mold. Take your rose colored glasses you twit! Batman is not coming back!_

Batman?

_Yes, remember him? We used to battle wits with him because his scope is so limited. We used to be partners you and I. That was until you got soft and let him in…._

That was different, this is now. Bruce is not Batman

_You keep telling yourself that sweetheart but I hope you remember that when that witch gives you another prostate exam with dirty tools. Even the Batman himself could not get rid of whatever it was that you had. What makes you think you're so special?_

He told me! He told me so!

_Just because he rode you like a pony? Please. What kind of adolescent mind set is that? We used to do that exact same thing and not just with Harley…_

No, please, get out….

_I am you, Jack, I am the devil inside. I am the bubble that pusses out of the tar pit reminding the world that I have life and is not just part of a giant muck of nothingness. _

No, shut up. You are wrong.

_No, it's you who is deluded, you fool. You fell into that trap with rose colored glasses and you fell for it and swallowed it up like a cherry soda. _

The Joker went into a corner, blocking his ears from the imaginary noise he thought was invading his thought processes infecting him with a poisonous black bile he wanted to shoot out. It was perverting and corrupting his soul and at the same time, this pit of hell revealed a grain of truth.

If Batman did care for him, why was he taking so long? He knew about the treatment in Arkham and why was he taking his time?

It was because he was forgotten. Batman had tricked him with a blindfold and took advantage of that emotional weakness and trust.

Batman brought him back here.

The cold hard facts were there. Batman seduced him back at the cave, tricked him, used him and relieved himself of him. The final seal was his words on the television set.

Bruce had lied to him and Batman only carried out the words.

Joker closed his eyes, trying to imagine away the cold hard truth as it invaded his mind. It molded around his consciousness like a smelly, sticky soup that could not be removed. He wanted to get out of there but there was no way that he could wade in that mindset. There was only one alternative to get out of that.

Laughter

Yes, sweet laughter, a rich cacophony of sound that would chase the blues away and get rid of the negativity that flooded his brain.

"HA".

It was simple but effective. It was a friendly and inviting sound and like chips, you could not stop at one. Pain and suffering was not the answer to life's problems, laughter was. After all, did they not say that laughter is the best medicine?

"HA HA".

That was better. It was like relearning how to use the bicycle. He could feel the ugly black bile lessen in his mind. It did not hurt as much.

The Joker opened his mouth and let out a few more.

"HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA."

Like music to his ears, Joker continued. He could not stop. This was better than therapy, this was better than drugs and this was certainly better than wallowing in sorrow.

Bunnies and guns. The JFK assassination. AIDS. All those things were the Three Stooges to him and he had just caught a rerun.

"HA HA HA HA HA."

Poverty. Starvation. Cancer. What a riot!!

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Rape. Abuse. Drugs. Gang warfare. STOP! I'll pee my pants!

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHOOHOOHOOHOOHOHOO!"

**_Please lemme know what you think. Thanks._**


	38. Me myself and my ego

Title: One More Chance

Rating: M

Genre: Psychological, noir, suspense, drama, action adventure

Synopsis: Bruce has a talk with himself

* * *

A swift punch to the jaw delivered a cracking blow to the mandibles of a blond male as he fell to the ground. His friends surrounded him, ready to pounce on the man they once discarded as an urban myth but was now glaring at them in the flesh. It was one thing to hear about these sorts of things. All the tall tales and mythical notions that were associated with him, it was like their very own signature Robin Hood, except that to these kids, the Batman was not a welcome guest.

The Dark Knight charged at them like a raging bull. The three young men and one woman, about twenty, were nothing but breakfast to his trained martial arts. One by one, they all went down like flies, targets of his never ending thirst and wrath. These were kids who chose the wrong hour, the wrong car to break into for pleasure and the wrong area to do their business.

The Dark Knight was not irritated and he was not angry. An irritation was a mosquito that would not back off from your Sunday picnic sandwhiches. He certainly was not angry. Angry was when someone had done something that was unconscienable and an answer was still achievable, even at a long shot.

The Dark Knight was in full on rage mode and nothing, absolutely nothing, could offer solace to his restless spirit. Mentally and physically, he threw himself into the exchange with the wannabe gangsters. They had deserved it. They were at the wrong place at the wrong time. They were creating mischief and some poor soul was going to have trouble with the insurance company. Even small things like that were anvil sized warnings to the Batman's psyche which was as delicate as a newborn's hand.

He was out of control within while trying to maintain control in his surroundings.

He grabbed one of the young men who looked as though he was old enough to drive but still had some peach fuzz by the shirt. The lad looked at the dark detective in sheer horror. No longer was his face entangled with one of adrenaline. His eyes widened from their narrowed slits into ones of all out fear. He longer had that look of intimidation that demanded acknowledgment but one of loss of control. No longer was he an active member in this discourse. He was now the prey and the Dark Knight did not look like he was interested in helping. He looked as though he was intentionally going to hurt the young man for crossing him.

The young man gazed back at the dark detective. He did not rape anyone, he did not kill anyone, he had not robbed a bank. He and his friends were only looking for a good time that involved smashing cars. Yes, it was still a misdemeanor but here was the Knight treating him like he was a convict in Nuremberg.

The Dark Knight retained his jab. He held it back and stared back at the young man, noting the nuance of change in his countenance. He was no longer attempting to be his poorly trained combative equal. This man was scared for his life. He was no match for the dark Knight's trained skills and combative power. He did not have that advantage. He was about to become a victim of the Batman's wrath.

The Dark Knight lowered his aim and the young man as well.

"Go back home, all of you!" he barked at them. They al scattered like cockroaches.

"Freak!" One of them yelled as he threw a rock and ran away from the scene.

Although the words came from the mouth of a coward, they did have a chord of truth to them. No one dresses up like an animal and goes out at night to deal with wrong doers. No one has a bad case of post traumatic stress disorder and subliminates that into one of pedestrain safety. One could make that case for cops and war veterans but how many of them ever had to deal with killer clowns, dangerous women and people with riddle, coin and hat fetishes?

He was talking with his fists and not his mind.

He was getting messy and it was obvious that it was now extended to his fighting skills.

* * *

A warm shower did little to soothe the sorrow that had plagued Bruce's brow. It was like adding gasoline to the fire because warm water is supposed to soothe and calm the nerves. It was like intentionally lying to oneself. It was like saying 'come here and rest your troubles' when they would not go away.

Bruce sat on the edge of the bed in deep thought. He went over what had occurred in the last two days. Dick had betrayed and lied to him. Barbara got into business she had no reason to be in. Alfred had also taken part in this. No one was talking to him and Joker was out there without his protection. To add salt to the wound, there was still that trouble with all the other all stars of Arkham Asylum.

For a control freak like himself, Bruce was in a personal hell. He could not trust anyone. Not that he was always a social butterfly but he could not even trust his own adoptive sons and daughters because they had invaded a very delicate part of his life and took that away without consulting him. The very thought of him being cuckolded by his own wards made him want to punch the glass standing across from him. Everything had been slipped through his fingers and disappeared like vapor. There was no solid ground anymore. All the delicate blue prints he had put together had vanished.

When did this start? Where did it begin? It was possible that it began when Dick put his nose where it did not belong. It was also credible that Joker did not help but ultimately Dick should have known better than to LIE to him. Was it possible that it started when he let himself get sidetracked with Joker? All that time he spent bonding with the clown he could have found that viral agent as well as to deal with the other major players without getting Dick and everyone else involved.

"**Looks like you are in quite a pickle, Bruce**", a dark voice responded out of the blue, snapping Bruce from his sulking self.

"Who's there?" the playboy queried into the dark. That was silly. He was thinking out loud. Yes, that was it. There was no way that someone could be down here in his most private space teasing and taunting him.

"**Don't be cute with me, Bruce, you know exactly who I am."** The dark voice responded again. He was not talking out loud, for he heard the voice again. Even in nothing but cotton bottom pajama pants, Bruce readied himself for armed combat.

"**Relax, I'm not going to hurt you."**

"How do I know that? How do I know that this isn't some sick joke?" Bruce barked back into the darkness.

**"Because I know your most private thoughts. I know what you will think ten minutes into the future and I know all the sordid little secrets and reasons behind some of the choices you made…."**

"You have no clue about me!" Bruce declared.

**"Do you really want to try me, Bruce?"** the poisonous voice replied again. It was not going away until it came what it asked for and they had not even gotten to the negotiating stages yet. **"I know all your life like a book from cover to cover. I even have the bibliography and outside sources."**

"What do you want? Whatever you are…" Bruce said in a voice with all the control he could muster. He did not want to think that some supernatural entity had entered his most private chambers but as of now, anything goes. Worse case scenario, Alfred will find him sleepwalking and talking in the kitchen with nothing on.

**"Bruce, you should know me. I have known you since you were wrapped in swaddling clothes in mommy's arms."** The voice said sweetly.

"Anybody can lay claim to that," Bruce shot back. How do I know that you are not Dick trying to pull another stupid stunt with a voice projecter?" The philanthropist answered back.

**"Because I was there when you and Catwoman shared a tender moment overlooking Wayne Tower a few years back. I was there when you and Talia had that intimate moment above the Tropic of Cancer. I was there when your parents were taken from you in that alley over twenty years back…."**

How could it know his secrets? Whoever it was must be some sort of sophisticated stalker or a well trained archivist who had skilled detective talents that rivaled his own. But that sounded crazy, but still, Holmes made the claim that even the most outrageous claim could prove to be the right one.

"Show yourself!" Bruce declared.

Out of the shadows, a dark figure emerged. Horns potruded from its head. It was blacker than tar and its face was a bleak shadow that covered any noticible features. It looked like a black spot except that its figure was very familiar.

It was himself

Or rather, it was his alter ego personified.

**"Hello, Bruce. Do you know who I am?"** the shadow responded.

"You look like someone who missed the recent convention," Bruce responded angrilly.

**"Still don't believe me, eh?"** the large bat-looking shadow replied. **"Will this help?"**

On that note, the figure reached out and produced a boomerang like weapon, except the instrument was very sharp and blunt and its shape resembled that of its carrier. He threw it the darkness surrounding them. Once hitting a solid rock surface, a myriad of bats came screeching out of the dark recesses.

**"I'm your ego, Bruce."** The figure confirmed.

The was not a result of medicinal hallucination. This was not his synapses going crazy. This was this. This was the real deal. In this crazy train, Bruce had lost control. That was true, but the question that had plagued his mind was when and was this his psyche catching up to him and kicking him?

The two figures, one man and the other a monstrous deformity of a Chiroptera met sizing each other up, though it was obvious now that the human was not in control of the situation.

**"We need to talk,"** Ego responded.

"Do I have a choice?" the playboy responded, trying not to look on the offensive.

**"Nice to see that you still have a sense of humor,"** Ego chuckled.

"Enough games, whatever you are," Bruce responded coolly.

**"Ever the impatient one, right, Bruce?"** the shadowy figure replied.

"Is it that obvious?"

**"Okay, okay, down to business…."** The shadow replied.** "Surely, you have something you would like to share, don't you?"**

Bruce gruffed.

"No, I don't," he decalared. The figure let out a disappointed tsk.

**"That won't do, Bruce. You have to try harder than that. You can't fool me."**

"I've been doing it for over twenty years to everyone-"

**_"BUT YOURSELF!"_** the figure responded darkly.

It was the first sharp jab of many. Deep down, Bruce knew he was right and made no effort to contest the words. He only glared back calmly, waiting for the next words the dodge him.

**"You have lied to everyone and that includes you, Bruce. You thought you could handle it all and that you could control everyone like lab rats and look where that has gotten you, in deep hell."**

"I can manage just fine," Bruce responded confidently but for some reason he could feel the words slip through Ego's grasp like air. They were weightless and had nothing to offer.

**"No you can't. You have demonstrated this time and time again."**

"I'm just having a slip up. I can fix this," Bruce responded to Ego but Ego would have none of it.

"**The man I know does not allow for any slip ups and do overs. Lives are at stake and now your life fell apart like a house of cards."**

"If Ray Palmer can stop a tumor from growing inside a boy and if Superman can stop a comet from hitting Earth I can manage," Bruce spat back.

Ego responded with a booming voice.

**"Bruce, come on. You can't fool me. You let the Riddler escape back at Pandora's Box. You barely caught the Mad Hatter when he said 'hello' at the gala a few weeks back. That in turn dropped you into Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy's grasp and you still failed. You could have killed two birds with one stone and you still failed. You even let the Scarecrow escape your grasp a few days ago. Do you see something wrong with that picture, Bruce? Are you sure you are in control?"** Ego responded with a booming voice.

All the sins were laid bare. It was if he was stark naked and everyone was looking at him. There was no place to run and no place to hide. His scars were visible and he had to revisit that ugly place again. He had to revisit his failures once more. Worse still, he had to acknowledge them. That bruised his ego and now it was responding, clamoring and complaining. It was no longer caged. It knew that he was something wrong.

**"What's going on, Bruce? Care to tell me what is wrong here?"**

It was like being a little kid and being forced to admit that they made the doodles on the wall.

**"Kinda slow, would you not agree? Harley Quinn of all people actually defeated you. Does that not embarrass you?"**

"She had help from her botanical friend and distracted me. I had no upper hands that day."

**"What about when the Riddler gave you some clues? Bruce, the idea of getting help from your enemies was once considred unconsienable, even by your standards."**

"He had a ruse."

**"Don't they all?"**

"He never uses gas."

**"That does not matter. They will always find ways to utilize themselves to outsmart you! What about the Mad Hatter and the Scarecrow?"** The booming voice queried.

"They had help from their friends." Bruce shot back as quickly as he could. It was the truth, they had help.

**"That is not a justification, Bruce, that is a rationalization!"** Ego responded angrily.

**"I see. But you at least admit that you were slow, right?"** Ego asked.

"There were some….misteps on my part," Bruce admitted with bated breath. There was no use pussyfooting around anymore.

**"Misteps?! Was it a mistep when Cape Canaveral put in the decimal point in the wrong place when they released a rocket that was invested with trillions of tax payer money? No, Bruce, that was a disaster!"**

That was like a slash to the stomach. All this time, his Ego was jumping and shaking in its cage and now he was loose and on the hunt but he was not done.

**"One more thing before I bid thee farewell, Bruce. My time is running short. What of your associates the ones you call Dick Grayson and Selina Kyle? What of them, for without them. Things could have taken for a worse turn."**

Bruce reflected on Dick's words. He mentioned dealing with the Scarecrow but due to immense rage at the moment it was locked away in memory. Selina herself even got her hands on those cassettes. Selina, poor poor Selina. Once again, Ego proved himself correct in all these aspects. Here, he was pushing away the people that were helping him.

"Okay, I admit it. I messed up! What else do you want?!" It was not enough that he admitted it internally. He had to admit it to himself, to concede to his shortcomings these last few days.

Still, what were the accusations and name calling producing? He admitted that he was wrong and that all this happened because of his own doing. It was not divine intervention, it was not because of chance. He slipped up and now what?

**"Nothing. The question is Bruce, what do you want?"** Ego replied. His voice was lower and slightly more tender.

Everything was laid bare and it was one complete mess. He wanted to repair that. Ego was only here to give him the kick that he needed.

"I want to fix all this. How do I do it?"

It was almost like a call to alms. It was a prayer and Bruce would hardly call himself religious but in this hour of need, who else could he turn to?

**"Start low,"** Ego responded.

"That's too vague. I need specifics." Bruce clamored.

**"Start low and work your way up. Rome was not built in a day. You can't run when you have been bedridden for once. You can't throw yourself into the same mindset as you were one month ago because of all this."**

What this meant was talking to associates. Start at the street level and work your way up. Start with the vague waters and work your way backwards. This would not yield immediate results but it was better than doing nothing and wasting time.

You cannot build a palace without using some mud first.

At that point, Bruce looked up only to find himself alone in his private quarters once more. Whether or not it was a dream did not matter. There was work to be done.

* * *

_**I had to write this chapter because I had to admit Bruce's shortcomings in the previous chapters. This little bit was inspired by Batman: Ego by Darwyn Cooke which I highly recommend. As always reviews, thoughts or anything of the sort welcome! I just rewrote the outline for the fourth time and it looks like the magic number for the story's chapters will be fifty. Coming up next: Harley Quinn returns!**_

**_ETA April 21, 2009: Hey guys, I deleted the last chapter. It wasn't my strongest and I apologize for the inconvenience. I'm also a little turned off by the trolling. Stay tuned. I'll be back when they die down. KISSES. _**

**_J_**


	39. Who wants to be lonely?

Title: One More Chance

Rating: M for language, violence and adult situations

Genre: Suspense, psychological, action, adventure

Archive: Sure

Flamers: Can go to Hell

Author's note: Due to some people trying to start trouble the other day I decided to drop the last chapter. I will repost the Joker and Harley chapter 'Rescue me' at a later date and with more detail and hopefully by then, the trolls would have died out. I don't mind constructive criticism, I have received it in the past on several occasions but what I don't like are stupid grudge matches in public. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this bit.

* * *

Muscles strained with the force that had been imposed upon them from hours earlier. At first, the punches, jabs and stabbings were only a momentary lapse that was used to hinder him. He had refocused his energies so that he would fight more effectively. What the untrained eye did not catch was that hurting the Bruce Wayne only fueled him. It was like adding gasoline to a fire. It only gave him more of a reason to continue his quest. He was an army drill sergeant's dream come true. Now, in vengeance for the assault, the billionaire philanthropist's muscles ached and seethed in pain. White hot iron like feeling pulsated on his body. He had just returned from a night of interrogation which yielded little but peanuts. Still, one could not be the cynic forever. That was the difference between him and the Boy Scout. While one was so arrogant in his incessant optimism, the other would wait like a hawk and not make his move until he was certain that there was something there.

All hunters use this method. It was precise, like a surgeon's knife but it was effective. It was frustrating, true, but it had its rewards.

Instead of venturing out as the Dark Knight these last few days, he decided on a more subtle approach. He didn't go for Matches Malone this time. That was only for business meetings, formal and informal. He had to stoop lower on the totem scale. He had to go the root of the problem and swim in the sewage to yield some answers.

'Start low'

That meant starting all over. That did not mean going to Arkham Asylum, it was too risky. This meant going after henchman, present and past. Although they were considered scum by his standards for associating with dirt bags like Crane or Tetch, they had vital clues. Like a hair at a crime scene, it would offer the break. No matter how insignificant it sounded, it was always preferable to nothing at all. After all, a likely impossibility is preferable to an unlikely one.

Today, he was able to locate an old associate for the Scarecrow. His name was Mickey. They called him that because he had this mouse like build. He was a small guy, about four foot eleven but a really nasty temper. He was like a piranha. His mode of defense were not just round of friends whom he surrounded himself, he had this hip disorder and had hemophilia, so as tempted as he was to try and 'rough him up' a little bit for answers, he did not want to risk it. One little scrape and the man would bleed to death. Like Goneril from Lear's play, her armor was that she was a woman. Mickey had protection because of his weakness.

Bruce leaned back on his bed. Disheveled and broken, he recollected the evening's events. Nothing stood out to him other than a boatyard. He had heard about that one since Dick told him that he, Tim and Selina were involved. That was a place of gathering, like an inn but nothing came of it. Still, it would not hurt to look at it.

He had also heard a rumor that a woman was involved in all of this. Going by the description, it did not sound like Poison Ivy was orchestrating all of this. She was only happy because she got freedom and because she got some money on the side. That is not to say that Ivy was a follower twenty four seven. She was versatile like that, all the which that made her more dangerous, but it was safe bet that Ivy was not the one behind this, even if she was the lucky one that delivered one of the first blows. Poison Ivy could be the May Queen or Mother Earth, a gentle soul that would offer warmth but like the Prioress in Chaucer's tales, she offered her sympathies in the wrong direction. Someone else was involved, but who?

Bruce stared up at the ceiling, deep in thought. He was trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together. So far, he had about sixty five percent of it completed but some vital parts were still missing. Time was on the essence and at the same time, he remembered Dick saying that he and Selina were also helping even though they were not supposed to get involved. God bless the both of them. On one hand, the seconds were dwindling down and yet, another part of him reminded him that Dick and Selina were on it, but after his outburst which resulted in him ramming his hand onto Dick's cheek, who knows if he was out now. He had not heard from either of them for days. He was never really a social creature, even in human form. The playboy persona was just that, an illusion. Truth be told, he hated it. Like a musician making a record store appearance, he hated that interaction. With those fake smiles and insincere words, they were as transparent as gauze.

For the first time ever, he felt truly alone, not just because he did not connect with humans on a superficial level or because he had not had contact with people he considered friends, even family. He was truly lonely. All his bridges were burned and all because of his bullheaded nature.

A whistle of wind broke Bruce's concentration. He turned his attention to his left side. A bruised and broken left eye hindered some of his vision. The sound was not just the wind making noise. That was the sound of a visitor making an unexpected call and there was only one person aside from Selina who had this trademark mode of entrance.

"Get out," Bruce ordered into the darkness.

"Is that how you treat your guests?" a voice spoke up. It was as melodic as church bells but as strong as incense.

"I am fine," Bruce replied with more strength in his voice.

"No, you are not. Do not think of me as foolish. You think I cannot see the broken septum and purple colored marks on that face, beloved?"

That damn name. She was not going away.

"Talia….." Bruce warned.

"Bruce," she replied with dulcet tones as she pushed away the door from which she was hidden in. She was wearing that blue dress she wore that night in Morocco. She looked like an Eastern princess. She hugged herself, whether it was from the cold outside or something else, Bruce sat up, wanting for her to come closer. "Why must you do this to everyone who worships the ground you walk on?"

"You don't have to say that, Talia." He ran his hands down her hair. It smelled like jasmine.

"Do not cater to my feelings, Bruce. I can clearly see that you are in turmoil. Do you dare lie to the daughter of the Demon?" She turned away from his in disgust.

"I do not want you to get involved in any way or form. I can handle this on my own," Bruce declared.

Talia looked up at him.

"Then why are you here looking like a disemboweled animal? You are not at your physical peak. I can see that. Surely, you must too." She cooed.

"Are you only here to scowl and punish me? I do not need this, Talia. You have less than two minutes to explain why you are here and why I should give a crap." Bruce barked at her. She barely flinched. She merely wiped away a lock of hair from her eyes.

"I'm here on my own business, beloved. I am here for you."

"Talia, I said no," Bruce replied warningly.

"Yet, you are too late. I chose to keep this secret from you, beloved, because I knew you would not look favorably upon it. I am here to help you with the Scarecrow and the others…."

"Is your father involved in any way shape or form?" Bruce queried. His strong build overshadowed her petite frame.

"That, I cannot say, beloved…" Talia replied meekly. She did not look at him as she did so.

"Then I cannot accept your services." Bruce said warningly. He turned back and grabbed a towel to wipe the grime and dirt from his face.

"Are you making preconceived notions against me, Bruce? I have been estranged from my father for some time." Talia exclaimed.

"What happened, Talia? Did he punish you for not getting the King of Sardinia killed?" Bruce shot back at her.

It was at that moment that Bruce felt a slap across his left cheek. She had just slapped him. She had slapped him just as how Joker did on that first day.

"Do not mock me, for I am sincere in my services. Honestly, it is if as though you are spending too much time with that clown and finally picked up some of his bad habits!" she snapped.

That was hitting below the belt.

"I am here because I want to help you, and because I care, and most importantly because I love you, Bruce."

"There are too many people involved, Talia. It is dangerous. Dick and Se-Catwoman got into waters that they should not have been. I don't want that to be you too." The playboy philanthropist replied warmly. It was a one hundred and eighty degree turn from his attitude. She was deadly serious. She was not here to give him a warning or to push him just like she did in that hotel in Rabat. She was not the one to be swayed with sweet words, a promise to the Caribbean or a diamond ring. She was focused and intense. She had him dead to his rights.

"I braved the Himalayas in subzero weather living off only wild birds and some minerals. I am a trained assassin with a bigger body count than you can imagine. You think your words will stop me?" Talia mocked as she crossed her arms.

"I don't want to get you involved because it is….complicated…" were all the words Bruce could muster out of his mouth.

"This is not the riddle of the Sphinx, beloved. You are clearly in need of help. There are no shades of grey here. And I will not move from this place until I have your word. It has been too long since we last talked," she said in a soft voice. It was no longer poisonous and accusatory. It was soft and inviting. It was most of all forgiving.

"Indeed it has," Bruce responded and looked at her, placing his hand under her chin.

"What happened with us, Bruce?" Talia begged.

"Things happen,"

"Indeed, and that is only because we make them happen." Talia said warmly. She placed her hand on top of Bruce's which was now on her cheek.

Her words rang true. They hurt because she was telling it like it is. This was not some cosmological force. This was not written in the stars. Things happened because we let them. He let himself fall behind on his work and he was the one that pushed Dick and Selina away and now, he was doing the same to the only person who was coming forward. Who was he to spit in her face too?

"So really, why are you here?" Bruce asked warmly.

"I have some business with your friend at the Iceberg Lounge." Talia stated simply. The look on Bruce's face was all that she needed to induce an explanation.

"It is not an attempt to blow up a federal building, beloved. He only needed the extra weapons for security. The recent riots from Arkham's grand escape induced fear, so your friend asked for only the most grade A of weapons and since we have a very close connection with you, it was only natural for him to come to my service." Talia explained.

The Penguin has enough money to make Forbes top ten. It would be natural for him to go to someone like Talia. They were working on the same weapons that the army still had except only as prototypes. They would not be on the market for another five years.

"Talia…" Bruce began but he was cut short when Talia reached up to him and pulled his face closer to hers embracing him with a passionate kiss. Bruce gave in and wrapped his arms around her thin back.

"I must go now,"

"Talia, please stay…"

"You need your rest. I'll meet you in a few days. Meet me at the asylum grounds. Be brave, beloved," Talia cooed before she took her leave and closed the door.

It was at that moment that Bruce sat back down on his bed and recollected in his mind what had just transpired.

Why was Talia doing this and why did she have to get involved? What did she have to gain from all of this? He could not refuse her offer. She seemed to know a lot more than she was saying and it was best to approach her as if she was a rattlesnake, with calculated and careful precision.

* * *

Talia in the meantime, had just entered a cab. She pulled out a stack of papers and after some shuffling, she set them back down and began to cry. She was not crying because of the intense emotional high she had gotten from seeing her lover after so long.

She was crying because she had known the real truth. She had omitted some details for the real purpose of her visit. She did know more than what she was telling and in short, she lied to the man she loved. She was involved with the Scarecrow and the others. She had the connections with the Penguin because they needed supplies and Bruce fell for her fairy tale because he trusted her and because he loved her. His proof of him having legitimate feelings for her still produced anxiety. She was hurting the man that was giving her his all. She got him at a weakened state. Was that manipulation playing? No, it was not for she did not know that Catwoman was involved until this evening. She did not want to think that something far bigger than this was involved, for that would make her a hypocrite, now wouldn't it?


	40. Rescue Me

Title: One More Chance

Genre: Psychological, action, adventure, drama, general

Rating: M for language, violent situations, disturbing elements

About the story: Someone wants the Joker dead and the usual wild cards are not adding up. Is there a new player in the game?

Synopsis for chapter forty: Harley Quinn rescues her puddin'.

Author's note: Made some changes since the last chapter. Explanations are down below. Enjoy the show!

* * *

The muscles ached as if there was a sort of molasses that glued the fibers together. His bones felt as if they had had an anvil dropped on them from a ten story building. For the third time that night, the clown turned to his side to gain comfort but failed completely. The laborious pains induced by the abuse of the Arkham staff had reached its toll and the Joker did not find that funny. It was only funny when it happened to others but not to him. The electroshock therapy was a more frequent routine now. It was not just done in a normal procedural manner now. Its use now resembled some perverse pleasure akin to that of a fetish funhouse except that the ones running the show were supposed to help the patients and not hurt them.

This was like the time when Doctor Ruth, no not that one, claimed that she was helping Harvey and instead of weaning him off of his coin, she caused him to wet his pants. The man had been so used to making his decisions with his coin that giving him a deck of cards was akin to that of giving a second grader calculus questions. His response was the opposite of what the exercise intended. They call these doctors hyper rationalists when their procedures were some of the most unconventional ever to grace medical journals.

Perhaps it did not matter anymore. The Joker was an unusual case and since the clown had his delusions of grandeur, perhaps, the doctors thought, it was best that he get his royal treatment. It was a cruel joke onto the clown Prince. For some reason, the treatment had gotten stricter. They preferred discipline and claimed that the state was threatening to give them a Fail if they did not 'brush up' in their routines and part of that meant being more 'disciplined' with their pets. Doctor Jeremiah Arkham was seen less and less. It was not like the man cared for him but it was nice seeing an old face. Now, he was seeing a bunch of strangers who wore masks around their mouths and for some reason, Joker knew it was not because of the swine flu.

For the last few days, the Prince had been subject to various measures. It had gotten to the point that instead of letting him run loose in his cage like a rat, they decided it was best to sedate the clown to keep him in place. The asylum had been remodeled so it was not like he was going to make an easy escape that night. He had been rarely let out since his big return a few days earlier. He always had a body guard around him and he was shuffled around either in a wheelchair or in a vertical stretcher. This was his daily 'exercise'. If it did not do anything for him mentally, then what the hell would it do for him physically? Not to mention the fact that he had been injected with a veritable cocktail of sedatives in his system which would prevent him for doing anything cognitively. Joker's immune system was the stuff that Nobel Peace prize winners coveted to demystify but so far, no dice. There were constant mutations which prevented a clear cut diagnosis so all in all, to keep the clown down, the Arkham staff decided to go the easy route and keep the clown on depressants so that they would not deal with any of his tantrums and off color behavior. European doctors were interested in his case but the asylum would not release him.

Joker's eyes snapped wide open. His forehead was covered in a damp stickiness. His breathing was laborious and he let out a low growl in anger. He felt as if he was stuck in quicksand. He tried to turn over but he could not do it. Due to his limited energy and mobility, the clown could not lift himself up. That was also about the time when he realized that he had been tied down with a lot of cables attached to his arms in various places. His grogginess also did not help either and his vision was limited as a result. Everything was a blur. Never had he felt so violated and cheated. It was like declawing and defanging a tiger. He could barely ball his hand into a fist. His phalanges were stiff with pain. How long had he been out, he thought.

His legs felt as if they would creak and break if he tried to move them and there was nothing tied to him down there, well, save for the catheter that had been attached to him. He could see his waste get collected and by the looks of it, no one has cleaned it for days.

Tied up, gagged and humiliated, the Clown Prince laid his head back on his pillow. That was only funny when he did it to someone like Harley, not him. He was never the butt of jokes. As Joker tried to make more sense of his surroundings, it was then that he noted a flushing sound onto his left hand side. It came from a feeding bag which was next to his colostomy bag. It had an electronic device attached to it which was now shining a red light. Joker then felt a surging liquid enter his blood stream. This was definitely not on the menu. Whatever it was, it was cold and it was starting to make him feel woozy again. The Prince's eyes now closed. The substances entering his body were now relaxing his body and mind. Normally, he was a quicksilver thinker but now, it was as though his mind was swimming in honey. He could not resist the substance which was like a snake charm tempting him to sleep. The beta waves next to him began to become animated. The clown was slipping out of consciousness and his breathing became shallower. It was now dead silent in the room.

The door adjacent to him opened slowly. Whoever it was, they were unusually careful to try and not let the light come in and blind the patient in the very dark room. Almost as quickly, they shut the door behind them. This mysterious figure most certainly did not want to get caught. With cat like precision, they approached the subject that lay before them. They examined the features in a careful and almost tender manner. The lymph nodes were normal and there were no unusual growths around him. The only thing that seemed off was that it was obvious that this specimen had been subject to too many chemical treatments that involved too many injections and not enough care. That was the kind of stuff that was best left to lab rats, not humans.

The mysterious figure removed the thin blanket from the Joker and began to examine the abdomen, thighs and the rest of the lower body. It was female. They seemed normal but it was best not to take chances. Finally, the figure reached up towards the face. They held a mirror in front of the clown's nose to verify if there was any breathing. Sure enough, there was some, but it was very shallow. It was then that the woman ran their fingers across the clown's green hair. Poor baby, what have they done to you, her eyes said.

The person then looked up at the window. It was still dark. For a few seconds, they were contemplating something before they turned back and headed out the door. Within a few moments, they returned with another stretcher that carried another body. They also brought with them an extra bag of supplies. Within the bag was a variety of beakers and test tubes with various chemicals inside of them. Almost immediately, the figure set aside the materials and began to administer them. As they injected a small bottle with a needle to suck in the substance, the Joker let out a small sound. It sounded helpless and on that note, the mysterious person quickened their pace. They only had a few moments to go ahead with this procedure. They went ahead and injected the Joker's neck with a stimulant. Part of this process was to keep the body at normal tempo but this could only last for less than three minutes, otherwise, it would prove to be fatal. The second step involved putting in a powder and that process could only be done so via a fresh wound.

The figure proceeded to cut along the clown's forearm and immediately added the chemical. It was the kind that was found in puffer fish. Alongside of that, they also added datura. This was a process that was used in Haiti. She had heard about this subject in one of her biological psychology classes. It was an unorthodox procedure but desperate times called for desperate measures. This had to be done tonight. It was then that she noted the chemicals working and the clown's breathing had become shallower. His heart rate began to slow down and the machine that monitored the heart rate read the heart as being near death. It was then, that she made her move and tore off the various devices attached to the clown's body. She also pushed the other stretcher which had a 'fresh one' so to speak under the sheets. Hopefully, that would buy them time. She covered her face with a mask and covered the clown's body with a sheet so that no one could suspect a thing.

It was just after three AM and most of the nurses were on their break. She had made a careful observation of their habits. Abby was floating between the second and third floors, Kathie was always on the west end and Jim was responsible for handling the multiple personality patients. The only thing that stood in her way was time. She had passed a suspicious looking nurse on her way towards the elevator. She thought it was chary because she had never seen this person before. In fact, on her way in, she counted at least two or three different new heads. There was talk of a more strict doctor in their midst but she paid them no mind. She only had two minutes before the medicine and chemicals would fail.

"Room 3A, dead," she said in a formal voice so that she could get this person off her case. Beautifully enough, it worked.

She smiled to herself before finally reaching the front entrance and walking out with her prize.

* * *

The clown's grassy green eyes fluttered open. He let out a small yelping noise as he helped himself up and this time, he was using his hands and arms freely. His muscles and bones still ached but not as much as before. It was as if he had been in a deep sleep for a few hours. The last thing he remembered was someone coming into his room at the asylum. The asylum?! Joker looked around at his surroundings. He was most definitely not in Kansas anymore and best of all, it was not at that hellhole that painted itself as an altruistic institution intended to help people. This place had a slightly more familiar touch to it. He recognized some of the touches: giant card props, several funhouse decorations but the one thing that made it feel like home was the smell of hyena urine. Off to the background, he heard a soft acoustic guitar playing on the radio.

"…you feel so lonely, that our house just ain't a home…."

"Good morning, sunshine!" a high pitched squeaky voice pierced the clown's delicate hearing. Joker dug his ears with his index fingers.

"Harley…?" the clown responded before coughing.

"Yeah, it's me, mister jay, how you feelin'?" Harley asked with childlike fascination. Hard to imagine this girl passed advanced physics to get her degree, but then again, she did do a few favors for a few professors some years back….

"Like I just passed a kidney stone or twenty…" Joker replied in a raspy voice.

"Yeah, I know, you looked like hell back there. You look like my aunt Bea after she had the twins!" Harley exclaimed with glee.

"Cute," Joker muttered. He made a mental note to feed her her own intestines later on. He didn't know whether or not this child like naiveté was done to rattle him or if she genuinely was a little out there. It was as if it had a life of its own.

"Ooops, don't do that Mister J, you don't wanna hurt your cute little keister, don't you?" she said as she helped him back on the bed.

"Harley, I am not a toddler, I can walk just fine…" Joker said in a low growling tone, hoping that she would get the idea and stop the incessant mother hen act.

"Nu uh, you're still a little groggy from the chemicals in your body and I want you to flush them out without any effort, so leave it to me, Doctor Harley Quinn medicine woman, okay?"

Joker let out a small sigh. "Harley, I have been bed ridden for almost a week. Do you want my legs to shrivel up and rot into nothing?" Harley made a gesture with her hands and face as if she was deciding to buy something or not.

"Hmm, well okay, but no running around. I'll do all the hard work here, okay?" Harley gleamed. Joker rolled his eyes in frustration.

"Whatever, dear, just be a good lass and fetch me some water and crackers, please."

"Um, we don't have crackers…" Harley said nervously.

"What, do you mean….you don't have…crackers?" Joker said in a low tone. Of all the guilty little pleasures she had to take away, she took the damn crackers! Those sweet little salty morsels were a piece of heaven and were even better with some vegemite or cheese. Some people had music, others had heroin, and Joker had his crackers.

"Buster and Lou ate the last of them. I gave them the last box of Ritz as a snack to reward them!" Harley said nervously. Oh, snap.

Joker let out a small disappointed scoff. "Well, what are you going to do about it then?"

"Don't worry, I'm making you something extra special!" Harley counteracted. Truth be told, she did have something cooking for him. Perhaps that would make up for the loss.

"What is it?" Joker said, really he was afraid to ask. More than likely is something like noodles made with cheetos or some creative crap she would make up. He would only eat it because there was seriously nothing to eat. Worst case scenario, he would dig through the trash.

"It's a surprise!" She replied. Once again, Joker rolled his eyes. He was in no mood to joke around. If he had enough strength in his legs and arms, he would easily turn her into a human pretzel or seduce her with a sex game he would make up and make his move. Unfortunately, things were very limited and he had better chances playing along with her silly mind games, for now, at least.

"Fine," was all Joker could muster. Harley giggled.

"I'll be back in a jiffy!" she replied. Joker made a mock smile and waved to her. It wasn't until she was gone that he muttered some things about her. In the meantime, he surveyed the rest of his surroundings. There was an awful lot of photography surrounding the place. Magazine articles, newspaper clips, pages ripped out of books and the like were strewn all over the place.

"Harley? What is all of this and what are these…photographs?" Joker took one off of the wall and examined it.

"It's just a new hobby I picked up. It was a new therapy that they were having at Arkham some time ago and I actually liked it!"

"Uh huh," Joker said to himself. He then leaned down to pick up a magazine article down by his feet and looked at its contents. It was a gossip magazine and it had his picture on it. Right next to him were profiles of several other notable people of similar repute. The article was about Psychopaths and the women who love them. It was content best left to trashy television talk shows of the early nineteen nineties. Joker flipped through the material and scowled and guffawed at the various pop psychologists who gave their views on his relationship with Harley. Many of them gave mostly reviews that would be considered music to her ears. Joker let out a low growl at the suggestions that he was somehow insecure and that his beating of Harley was his own way of saying 'papa spank' or something. Another one made the comment that they were this century's Bonnie and Clyde. Another person compared them to Ike and Tina. Either way, Joker at least found some useful toilet paper. Joker looked down and found an old issue of Time magazine dedicated specifically to him. It was dated around the time he left his mark on the bird in Africa. This one impressed him a little more.

"You ready?" Harley came back with a plate covered with a silver top.

Joker put the magazines behind his back and sat down while he let Harley serve up her dish.

"Ta da!" Harley yelled when she lifted up the silver top.

It looked burnt, overdone and really greasy.

"What is it?" Joker asked in his most calm voice.

"It's sirloin steak and mashed potatoes!" Harley responded.

"It looks like crap," Joker said in a venomous voice.

"It was either that or some rotten mac and cheese!" the clown princess responded quickly, hoping that he would understand. She did it from the heart and the gas bill had not been paid.

"Fine, fine!" Joker brushed her off. He proceeded to take a taste of the spoilt meat. Truth be told he was not that hungry but he was not in the mood to hear Harley cry. The sirloin, if she could call it that, tasted cold. Some of the sauce made it lack taste but complaining about Harley's cooking was like complaining about the water being wet. True, she was good at….other things, but she was no Martha Stewart.

"Well?" Harley said with puppy dog eyes.

"Mmmmm!" Joker said in a poorly orchestrated sarcastic tone. Harley clapped her hands at his forced approval.

"YAY!" she squealed. She did a cartwheel and at the end of her destination, she proceeded to dust off some boxes and began to clean up some of the untidy 'mess' that Bud and Lou left behind.

"You know, I had a run in with you know who last week…" Harley said nonchalantly.

Joker, with labor, gulped a scrap of meat.

"You don't say…" he responded.

"Wanna take a guess?" the clown girl asked.

"The President of the United States?" Joker shot out without any enthusiasm.

"Nope," Harley nodded.

"Your favorite actor, the one with the butt chin?" Joker asked again.

"Uh uh," Harley shook her head. "It was your favorite, B-man!"

Joker choked on his scrap of meat and pounded on his chest.

"Heh, I knew that would get yer attention, but it did!" Harley smiled to herself.

"Did you now?" Joker said in a tone that suggested positive interest. His eyebrow lifted up.

"Yeah, we did. It was after Jervis tricked him outta dat rich folk's place. Who knew Bats was so rich? But then again, ya gotta be loaded to afford all those wonderful toys!" Harley smiled.

"Uh huh," Joker responded. His face contorted into one of dark interest and venom.

"Yeah, it was really something. Me and Red really gave it to him that night. She got him with one of her plant thingies and I played the bat like he was a softball!" Harley Quinn giggled to herself. "You shoulda heard those brains crack, mister jay! I knew you would like it! Now, I know you don't want me to kill him, cuz I didn't, but I made sure to let him know that he can't hurt my puddin', so I gave him the old one two!" Harley reenacted the moment by balling her fists into the air. Joker rested his chin on his hands.

"I see…." Joker replied.

"Yeah, you should have been there."

In the meantime, Harley Quinn was making this confession, Joker was creeping up behind her. Like a tiger on the hunt, the Prince took ever word with careful precision. His anger was reaching boiling heights and just around the part where she talked about turning the Bat's brains into mush, the clown reached up and imagined her neck between his hands. His face was now one of pure unadulterated hatred. Only moments ago, he was warm and receptive and in only minutes, he had the urge to crush someone's esophagus. It was then that Harley turned around, just as she finished her confession and saw the clown standing over her like a vulture waiting to take his pick. The look on his face was not one of approval. Rather, it was one of venom, bitterness and wounded pride. She had no idea what had brought it upon him.

"Puddin'? I thought you mighta liked the Batman story, what's wrong?" Harley asked innocently.

"Do NOT say that name in my presence again." Joker said warningly.

"What? Batman, but I thought…" Harley's blue eyes widened. Joker was a delicate creature of feeling. He was mercurial and although he was enigmatic, exciting and charming, there were those buttons that she was not allowed to push. Apparently, there was now a new rule.

"Harley…" Joker said warningly. He raised his hands up. Harley balled up to protect herself.

"No, please puddin', no!" Harley yelped.

Before Joker could deliver the blow, he noted a sheet of newspaper by Harley's head. It had a familiar name. He went around and reached for it.

Joker let out a low growl and within seconds, his face turned into one of delight. He let out a small laugh.

"Puddin', is something wrong?" Harley asked.

"No, nothing's wrong my little sack of nutmeg."

"Then, what's so funny? Come on, tell me!" Joker shoved the newspaper article in her face.

"Can you read?" Joker asked.

"Rock star's tongue grafted with a cow's and bites dove's head off?" Harley read aloud.

"No, the other one," Joker directed.

"Society at the Hamilton with celebrity guest lawyer Romero?" Harley read aloud.

"Exactly," Joker replied.

"I don't get it, what's so fascinating about her? I don't think those are real!" Harley pointed out.

"Don't you get it, Harley? It says CELEBRITY guest lawyer. Seems as though Miss Romero has pulled a Mark Geragos, hasn't she?" Joker said while rubbing his chin.

"I don't know. I still don't get why everyone is gaga over her. I know she and Johnny have something going on, that's about it. I try not to meddle in other people's relationships ya know. It ain't polite!"

"The wrong people's relationships…" Joker muttered to himself. He read more of the article and got more and more intrigued.

"Mister jay, what are you thinking?" Harley queried, thinking it was safe now to investigate the clown's sudden interest in this woman.

"Harley, I have been out of my element for the last month. The public has seems to have forgotten all about me…"

"That's not true, you still got your fan clubs, I looked and I checked."

"Harley, those are tributes. I need to take back what is mine. Scarecrow is taking all of the credit and I have been MIA. You think I like that?"

"Of course not, you know I don't," she leaned up and kissed him on the cheek.

"It's time I make my presence known again, let them know that the Joker is still around. Like Alaric, I am ready to take what is mine!" Joker exclaimed.

"That's the spirit!" Harley said with a jab of her fist. The clown's enthusiasm was intoxicating. She must be doing something right.

"Harley, I think a reunion tour is in order, don't you agree?" Harley beamed.

"Yes, indeed I do, mistah jay!" Harley squealed.

Joker grabbed Harley by the hip and a small fit of giggles blew into a cacophony of chuckles and guffaws. They were synchronized with the ones by their pet hyenas. Harley looked up at her man with pride in her eyes. Genghis Khan had nothing on her clown prince.

Joker and Harley's reunion tour was about to begin.

* * *

_I made some changes since the last time I posted this. I felt that I could do more with Joker being groggy. I hope it worked. Cheers!_


	41. Under the bridge

Title: One More Chance

Genre: Psychological, drama, action adventure

Rating: M for language, violence, adult situations

Archive: Yes, please. Just let me know.

Recommended readings: The Game We Play by Dark Jester, Throwaway Card by Killing Joke, The Cake Games by kokoronoitami

* * *

Bruce added the final touches and lengthened his red tie which complemented the ten thousand dollar power suit which he had imported straight from Milan. Carla Vestibuono was THE star for the stars and big names in the business. If one wanted to feel bold, confident and refined, one had to wear an ensemble crafted by Carla. There was no real purpose for this outfit other than to just blend in with the crowd at that evening's dinner and gala at the Hamilton hotel.

Bruce had been engaged with serious inquiries as the Dark Knight. Night after night, he had been prowling the streets as Gotham's own vigilante, its own guardian angel. He barely got any results from his nightly activities as to the whereabouts of henchman's former employers. That was of course until he got a big bite yesterday. This felt like the time that Joker was framed for some poisoned stamps. Some of the answers ranged from dead ends to being all out ludicrous.

Although the ex henchmen did not pinpoint specific details such as what quadrant and at which degrees their former bosses were located, they did have a name. Thanks to these little things called grapevines, bonds after being fired and recalling old acquaintance details, Batman had enough to go forward. But tonight, he decided that the rules were going to change. Tonight, the Dark Knight was going to take a break. The Batsuit was tucked neatly into the Batcave two hundred feet below him. The Caped Crusader may be taking a break tonight, but the detective was certainly not. Although kevlar and rubber were the usual choice for the Dark Knight's war paint, there was something to be gained in being subtle and having more than one power suit. It was another positive in doing his detective work.

On some nights, Matches Malone would be the ideal candidate to hunt for clues in Gotham's underbelly. The problem was, however, that he was a shady character best limited to questionable odd jobs such as interrogating the Penguin at the Iceberg Lounge. Lefty Knox was also another disguise that Bruce took refuge in but he was best limited to doing really dirty jobs such as going to seedy strip clubs or punk rock concerts to get any clues, even if they were just word of mouth feather in the wind types of details. Tonight, the selection was Bruce Wayne, billionaire playboy.

The Hamilton Hotel was hosting the Lifetime Achievement awards and toast to Gotham's influential personalities. A few of them were Nobel Prize winners, composers and the like. Also included in the list were Gotham's very own power lawyers. Although Bruce himself questioned their induction into the award ceremony, it still provided him an opportunity to meet with these enigmatic women.

When a door closes, a window opens, so to speak. This was one of those times. This was one of those rare times when a little touch of optimism gave a little boost to the Dark Knight's cynical soul. That did not mean that everything was going to be strawberry fields forever. It just meant less constraint and more breathing room. It meant slightly more control and he would try and exploit that. It did not mean one hundred percent harmony or perfection. That kind of thinking only existed on places like Themyscira. It just meant more grease on the wheel and nothing more.

"Do you plan on tugging at that thing all evening or are you almost ready?" A warm English voice called out by the door. Bruce turned around to see Alfred standing there with warm towels at hand.

"Thank you, Alfred. That will be all," Bruce replied as he took a fresh one from the top of the pile.

"My pleasure, sir," Alfred said in an icy manner. The two had barely spoken since the day Dick had made his uninvited visit. On one hand, Bruce felt that his most trusty butler would have done something and yet, he was not exactly your stereotypical busybody and knew when to keep his space. The man himself was a trained spy who served for the Majesty herself and he was trained in some martial arts. Still, Alfred did mention that he did not want to get involved in this, as he liked to call it, 'game of Chinese whispers'. The man was loyal, but he was not a dog. He was a trusty friend, not someone you could boss around. How could one order around the one and only father figure that they had? The two had traded nothing beyond the usual meal and textile talk.

It could not go on forever. He could not afford to burn that bridge, even if Alfred was embarrassed and flushed after his encounter with the Joker in the kitchen.

"Alfred," Bruce piped up. It was now or never. They could not ignore the giant hole in the living room and walk in an awkward manner. It had to be conceded point blank, Bruce thought. There was no point in pussyfooting around anymore. The question in his mind was silly, he thought, but it was a start.

"Sir?" the butler acknowledged by the oak door. At least he did not ignore him. It is like he did before, but at least he was attentive still.

"Are you in any way uncomfortable with my methods as of late?" Silly question but one could not build the bridge without any nails or basic wood. He was vulnerable and he put himself out at a delicate state. The usually stubborn Dark Knight and the arrogant Bruce Wayne would normally not succumb to such a insubstantial condition but since relationships had come down to shaky grounds that were as study as quicksand, Bruce thought that it was best to lay it all out. It was the only way to acknowledge the eight hundred pound gorilla in the room without directly referring to it.

"I do not agree with most of your methods, sir, if that is what you are indeed referring to." The butler said finally.

"What do you mean?" It was one of those rare times when the butler was so forward. Normally he was reserved and kept his negative opinions to himself. Him speaking on a plane such as this with Bruce allowed for a more intimate conversation. It was certainly easier than finding Jimmy Hoffa and being blunt was an easier pill to swallow than to all out ignore each other.

The answers were vague and he mentally kicked himself for making this look like an interrogation than an actual conversation.

"Well sir, dodging bullets, battling with alien forces and cavorting with renowned psychopaths are not exactly my ideas of spending my leisure time. I prefer unlocking a mystery between the covers of a book than taking gas from the Riddler. However, watching you grow into your predilections, I have decided to give you nothing but my undying support, sir."

Alfred said before he cleared his throat. Bruce stood there and waited for those exact words. The cynic within him said that this was all scripted but the optimist said to wait.

"Sir, as long as you did not engage in underage drinking and driving, I chose to be liberal and say one too many hallelujahs. However, if you are referring to our friend's recent stay, then I must say that I am not." A brief admission was a slight weight lifted off of his shoulders.

"I chose not to interfere in that space because I know how much you value your privacy. That is also the same reason why I chose not to get involved when Master Richard made his move."

At least it was a sort of recognition. There was no more tip toeing around the issue.

"Sir, I may be trained in over twenty different martial arts, but do you expect me to stand up against Master Dick of all people. It is no different than waving a red cape in front of a bull."

A little bit of humor helped to curtail the issue but it did not go away one hundred percent. Better still, it meant that the bridge was not one hundred percent burnt. This showed that Alfred had some control, but at the same time, he could not exude authority. It was not within his realm and he respected that. All in all, it was the healthier decision than to be involved. This was better than being a spy for Heinrich Himmler because if you were an informant for a death camp, getting to know the underbelly and spilling its secrets could save lives. Alfred getting in waist deep in all of this would have been like playing with fire and he backed off from it. He had no control as to whether Joker would have overreacted and judging by his reactions towards him, he seemed quite fond of the old butler. "He's cute in a Santa's little helper sort of way" he would say.

Bruce smiled softly. At least some of that warmth was back.

"I know I have been making a fool of myself these last few days…"

"Now, let's not be so hard and curse ourselves, Master Bruce. Just being less….observant would be the better term." Alfred offered as he smoothed some of the wrinkles from Alfred's suit.

"Alfred…I have made some mistakes…." Bruce said with a shaky voice.

"Now, now," Alfred offered. "It is not World War Three. Some things can still be rectified…"

* * *

Selina Kyle was enjoying the Gotham Museum's most recent exhibit: Northern Renaissance paintings. Although she preferred themes of the more feline variety, she was a very sophisticated woman with varied interests. Even a cat gets tired of playing with the same toy over and over. Tonight's spotlight was Van Eyck and Rembrandt. She was particularly fond of the latter's use of shadow and light. It was a perfect contradiction that perfectly mirrored her own persona. Van Eyck was very good at colors and bringing out the beauty in something so mundane. The colors were a jigsaw puzzle that held secrets and surprises should one look hard enough. They were subtle but they were there. She felt a vibration tingle in her purse. She picked up her phone. The number made her eyes widen. It was Bruce. The two had not spoken in days and the last time they did it was not pretty. Still, this was a nice surprise. It was bittersweet. It was like being offered fortune cookies while being spat on the face. Should she answer? She did not want to seem desperate but this was Bruce. He had done some very mucky things in the last few days but he was still an ally, a friend, and on some nights, they were closer than that. He ignored her, dismissed her and put her down all for that stupid clown and now he was reaching out? Bruce, you are a walking enigma.

Still, ignoring him would be like a hungry tigress ignoring the sombar stag walking in front of her.

"Hello?" she said in a dark tone.

"Selina?" Bruce replied on the other line.

"It should be me otherwise I am wearing the wrong outfit…" Selina replied.

"What are you wearing?" Bruce said in a low tone. Selina smiled to herself as the tone of voice sounded dirty…and inviting. Hold still, girl. There were still some questions that she had to ask.

"Bruce, are you drunk?" she demanded. He would not have a reason to be this friendly unless he needed something so her being angry had a warrant.

"Excuse me?" Bruce said in a warm puppy dog sort of way. "I, I just wanted to see how you were doing." The playboy said gently. Psssh, yes you are, Bruce. She decided to tug at his heart strings and play them like a ukulele.

"I'm having a date with some Flemish painters. They are very creative, you see, but they are also very communicable. They tell you a story but they also tell you the truth. Sound like someone I know?"

Aside from his fighting skills, Batman was one of the most unsophisticated people she had ever met. He was blunt, black and white and very rough. Bruce Wayne however, was the very epitome of charisma, erudition and charm.

"If you are trying to make me jealous, it's not working Miss Kyle…" Bruce said in a sarcastic tone. Selina gave a dirty look at the phone before she responded. He was unusually confident and open. She was only annoyed because he was stalling.

"Bruce, what is all this about?" She mentally caught herself for being so forward. Truth be told, she was angry because Bruce had lied to her and cheated her. If he had no significance, she still would not have felt this...passionate about him. She needed to talk to him. These strange codes, secrets between them, half talks and miscommunications were only serving to aggravate her. She could only look at Arnolfini's new bride before she had to come back to real life. She could not deny that the fire was still there and when she heard Bruce's voice on the other line, she was at a crossroads. She could not ignore him forever.

"I, I just wanted to invite you to dinner tonight…"

"Bruce, I thought you had arm candy for that." Selina retorted.

"Selina, not tonight and not because I did it on purpose," Bruce admitted. Selina stood aback.

"Selina, I need you here. We need to talk. Would you go out to dinner with me?"

Bruce's voice was like that of a wounded animal she could not resist. It was not because they had communicated with their alter egos where he was testosterone personified and she controlled the chase. It was because those two had connected outside of the latex and shared some meals and a few bedroom trysts. He unmasked himself in front of her. He took some nights off patrol to spend time with her. He entrusted her into his own home of which even Alfred himself acknowledged her as a special woman. Last but most certainly not least, whatever Bruce wanted to talk to her about, it was most certainly was going to involve that tape that she gave him. Whatever it was, it involved the hellish clown. She had unknowingly gotten herself involved in something much bigger than she could imagine possible. This must be what it is like for a kitten to play with too much string.

Both of them had lovers that had come and gone, but to one another, they were constants in each other's lives.

"I'll be there at seven thirty," she replied. She looked at her watch. It was a quarter passed six.

_Author's notes: For those who still care, thanks for sticking around. The part where I mentioned Joker and poisoned stamps comes from a story called Joker The Devil's Advocate by Chuck Dixon and with illustrations by Graham Nolan. I highly recommend the book._


	42. Black or White

Title: One More Chance

Genre: Romance, action adventure, drama, suspense, mystery thriller

Rating: M for mature situations and language

Synopsis: Selina hears the truth.

Archive: Yes

Feedback: Sure

Author's note: Took a long break due to personal reasons but now I am back. Criticisms are welcome, preferably with suggestions. If you have any questions don't hesitate to ask.

* * *

Selina had donned a simple low cut dress adorned with a small jeweled cat at the gala. It was nothing special. She wanted to blend in with the crowd and the last thing she wanted was paparazzi like frenzy surrounding her. Truth be told, she was a vain woman who took care of herself immensely. She replenished her body with expensive coconut butter and oil products to help her skin. She loved the Italian fashion designers that had the magic and were able to craft that one dress that would make the individual. It was not something she openly indulged in or needed to shout from the rooftops but like any woman; she knew she had that appeal. She knew she would have some sort of competition at the gala which is why it didn't faze her when she saw other women, from models to news reporters to heiresses living on trust funds flaunting their new garments like peacocks. Here, the men were more subtle. The colors, tresses, ruffles and jewels were the perfect distractions as she made her way down the hall, searching for that one particular individual.

In the meantime, she had gotten an earful of the evening's gossip. Apparently, Bruce's special 'friends' were being nominated for some award, so he had reason enough to be here in the flesh. What piqued her interest was that he invited her. She had a good idea of what the topic was about. She wanted to put it in the back of her mind but should she have done that, it would have been like ignoring the elephant in the room. She wrapped a sarong on her head. Her skin was tan enough and she would have easily passed off as South Asian royalty. The fact that she was not attached to an important male allowed her to tread the floor room with the ease of a ghost.

Although her composure was one of confidence and drive, deep down, her insides squirmed at what Bruce wanted to talk about. She had seen him invite the clown into his lair. Bruce was a very smart man, just brilliant, but you know what they say about being a genius; it was next to madness. Bruce had made some very, in her opinion, bone headed moves, but at least he got results, therefore she had no real reason to critique his plans. That evening however, when she saw the clown in HER robe, was when Hell broke loose practically. It was not that she was jealous. She was far from homophobic as her friend Holly would be a testament to that. It was that it had to be Joker. She had to admit, even if it was the older, cuter Robin, it still would have bothered her. It wasn't the sex that bothered her. It was that once again, Bruce was still keeping his secrets. True, they were not facebook buddies who wrote on each other's walls everyday but she still wanted to slap Bruce for keeping something like this from her. The only thing she would have done was not call him for a few days because she had to soak it in. Of all people, it had to be that clown, and what an irony too! She did not want to think it but she was kind of jealous that the clown had stepped into her heels. Oh, God, the image of him wearing one of her old cat suits made her stomach churn. Finding Joker in that situation with Bruce was the equivalent of waking up from a midnight slumber and finding a Mexican red-kneed tarantula waiting for you on top of the sheets. It made her muscles tense, her heart race and her adrenaline and cortisol levels shoot to the roof. Normally a demure woman who prefers a more subtle and cat-like approach, Selina had no crosses to bear when she went after the clown in an attempt to subdue and hurt, yes HURT, him. He had gotten into sacred territory and he was pissing on it. Like a lioness whose home turf was being taken over, Selina got into defensive mode. She had a RIGHT to be angry, she had a right to lose her cool, but most importantly, she knew she was right when she had to defend a friend from an old enemy's poisonous influence. With Harley, it was one thing, but Bruce? The same man who swore to keep the clown off the streets and protect people? The same one who swore to go after the killer clown after what he had done to Barbara and Jason who were like his own children to them?

This was a rabbit hole that she herself did not want to get involved in but she did. It was guilt by association. It was like being a saber toothed cat being caught in the La Brea tar pits while going after a large bison but not before getting caught in the muck. The bison was so close and yet so far away. Selina's psyche felt as if it had been caught in quicksand. She could not give up. She had to get out somehow. She jumped in to save Bruce and got trapped in the meantime. She could give up and if it meant that she had to get involved to save a friend, then so be it.

This was not her first encounter with the Joker. The clown was stealthy but once you got to know his repertoire, you had to study him a little bit. That was an understatement because even with years of experience against the psychopath, you could still never figure him out. Selina did not even get the gist of why he was having a slumber party with his worst enemy. Deep down, Selina wanted to raid the Bat cave and slit the clown's esophagus and watch him pass away slowly. Her consciousness said otherwise. Murder was not her thing. She did not enjoy it when she killed Black Mask. She certainly was NOT LIKE HIM. She derived no pleasure in it. It would not be better if she had the privilege of cutting the Joker's life short because she knew it went against Bruce's principles and as independent as she was, she did not want to get on his bad side. It's not that she was desperate for a relationship, much less a 'friend' with benefits. She had gained enough trust with Bruce that she did not want to sabotage it because of anger. He had let her have enough leverage even if he disapproved of certain things. It may have sounded like he had control of her but it was not like that. She had used his generous nature to gain trust. At least then, he would leave her be. That's how she got the East End and parts of Downtown Gotham. They were connected but it was moments like this that reminded her that there was still some distance and this was one thing that she could not ignore. This was her one chance to rectify the situation and Bruce was reaching his hand out, like Adam to God in Michelangelo's fresco.

Selina at that point shook her head. All this negative qi hindered her mindset. It was beginning to have the stuffiness and angst of an Anne Rice novel. She had to move fast.

"Madame, may I take your coat?" A warm and pristine English voice queried.

"I am fine, thank you," she said without looking.

"Oh, I insist, Miss Kyle. Is this how we treat old friends?" The voice rose up again. At this point, Selina could not ignore him. Her heart raced up for a few nanoseconds but slowed down when she recognized the face. He was grandfatherly and warm. He had the paternal sense of a caring friend combined with the smart assed wit of a late night comedian.

"Alfred! Oh my God!" Selina exclaimed.

"Good to see you, Miss Kyle. How are things going on in your own personal life?"

"It's a little complicated, Alfred…" Selina said almost sheepishly.

"I do not blame you, Miss. The circumstances in Master Bruce's life are more complicated than a jigsaw puzzle."

Selina leaned in.

"Is that why you are here?" she said before taking a sip of chardonnay.

"Certainly," Alfred said quickly.

"But if you are here, who is…."

"Master Dick is manning the ship, Miss Kyle," Alfred cut her off. His quick answers lessened the anxiety that grew within her and what's more, he had a fly's view of what was going on and even he did not have so much as a white hair out of place. That certainly helped matters. "If you are wondering where Master Bruce currently is, he is entertaining a flock on the West balcony."

Selina smiled. Even if they were not the closest of friends, Alfred made her smile.

"Thanks, Alfred."

True enough, Bruce was surrounded by a bevy of beauties near the Western art. The veil that tried to cover Bruce and his harem beckoned her like a secret. The last thing she wanted to feel like was an outsider. True, there was no ring on her finger but she had a certain VIP status in regards to the playboy in front of them who was serenading the twenty somethings with tales of travel and wild nights in Milan. As soon as his blue eyes landed on her, Bruce made a gesture, leaving the women behind pining for more stories in hopes that he would invite them along and ignore the cougar in front of them.

"Still robbing the cradle?" Selina remarked. Bruce could smell the insincerity in her voice.

"Glad you could make it, Selina," Bruce replied. It sounded almost scripted but Selina paid no mind. She imagined that he had practiced it in front of the mirror. After all, she was Catwoman, not some fling for the night he could lie to.

"Um, you invited me first. I am only doing this as a favor," Selina said warningly. She kept her voice hushed as they went to a more secluded area. They did not go to the VIP lounge. They would immediately get recognized there. Again with the secrets but she could be patient. This whole thing was complex, like astronomy. Once you discovered a planet or a star, there would be even small components that would make it up. It was like a mosaic and she was only getting bits and pieces when she knew she deserved the entire answer.

"I am still glad you showed up," Bruce said off handedly as he continued walking them down as they looked for a comfortable spot. This was not the exclusive Mirage hotel so she had no idea where he was looking.

"What made you think I wasn't?" Selina replied with a stern tone.

"I never said you were not," Bruce shot back and looking at her with those piercing blue eyes. They were like ice.

"I made it. You don't trust me. I show up and you still question me?" Selina replied. Calm down, girl. She knew she had a right to be angry at him. All the twisting of facts, all the lies by omission, she demanded an answer now. Still, she did not have to jinx her chances. This was like complaining to the barracuda once you had it within reach.

"Selina, please. Not now," Bruce said without an afterthought. He was beginning to look anxious.

"Then when, Bruce?! When?!" Selina raised her tone.

That alone stopped the playboy in his tracks.

Bruce looked at her with consternation and then with surprise. He too caught himself up in the moment. This was not a fly by meeting where the answers were told in briefings and meetings were set up via twitter. He had to slow down now. He could not brush her off like a casual business associate. She knew his secrets inside and out, well most of them at least. Now was the time he had to lay down the cards, for the sake of his sanity and their relationship. He had to be open, like a plain in Africa. No more stones. She deserved better.

"Selina," Bruce began but it felt like he was walking in molasses.

"Don't bother," she shot back. Now was not the time for romance. She was not in the mood.

"No, Selina, I-I" Bruce began but again, her piercing green eyes, so much like his, cut at his soul.

The reminder of it all….

"The four one one, Bruce," Selina shot back but this time, it was not as stern as before. She made it clear that she was not going to leave. No threats, no screams. She would stay as long as she required it and Bruce caught it crystal clear. Now was not the time for missed phone calls or one night stands. It was literally a matter of life and death and she would pay him the debt but only because she got sucked into this madness.

"Tell me about him, Bruce. What is going on?" Selina started. She knew she had rattled a nerve and had to be more sensitive about the issue at hand.

Here was the bare naked truth. That is how he felt. He felt exposed, vulnerable and weak with nothing to protect him other than a sign of Selina's approval. So far, there was nothing except the promise of a lending ear.

"Joker is sick," Bruce blurted it out.

"And I should care because?" Selina continued. She was listening and that was good.

"You don't understand. Someone wants him dead and they are using him against me," Bruce replied quickly. Each word felt like bullets and as someone whose life changed because of a gun, it felt disgusting but it also felt therapeutic.

"Why would they use Joker against you? He's your worst enemy," the dark haired woman replied. Her tone at this point and time was reassuring. She was warming up to him and to Bruce that was the sweetest reward.

She had a feeling about the answer.

"I don't know. It doesn't help either that he has some sort of virus too." Bruce said.

It felt like he was draining heaviness from his soul. Finally, there was someone who was listening to him without judgment or shame.

"Really? Wow, he must be getting his comeuppance better than I anticipated," Selina blurted out.

"This isn't a game, Selina!" Bruce shouted back.

Selina rolled her eyes internally. Damn Bruce and his obsession with saving lives. He would save Ted Bundy's life even if it meant postponing his death. He just could not live to see cells ceasing to divide. All this because of some psychological crutch he bore when he was a kid. Selina understood it but at the same time, it made her sick to her stomach. It infantilized him, all this angst just to delay the inevitable, she thought. It was impossible to delay the foreseeable. How could Bruce be so smart and at the same time be so God damn delusional? She wanted to help but not before slapping him into reality.

"I'm, I'm sorry," Bruce said finally.

"Stop apologizing, damn it!" she cried. "I'm here to help you but you just won't let me!"

"I know, I know," Bruce said calmly. He held her close. Her perfume was intoxicating. Her soft skin was like velvet underneath his fingertips.

"How can I trust you, if you won't let me in? How can we make this work if you are always going to keep stuff like this from me? Bruce…" Selina said faintly. She wiped away a tear.

All the emotion ran through her body like acid. She still was not getting the full picture. She had to know, she had to find out if Bruce was going to bed with the Joker. The thought repulsed her but it would help her come into grips with this dark reality. This was not the man she once knew, she rationalized. Still, she could not leave him hanging when he was asking for help.

"Bruce, did you?" Her voice was faint but the message was clear and Bruce knew who and what she was talking about. A simple nod was all the confirmation she needed. The feelings came crashing down into her but at the same time, it made sense. It was all perfectly clear now. She now understood why he was so invested in the clown and protecting him, not just from her but something else.

There was no use in crying over spilt milk. She was not about to throw a tantrum in the middle of a five star hotel. She really wanted to claw his eyes out but there was no point in ending up in a trashy tabloid the next day.

"So what are you planning to do now?" Selina finally said.

"Well, he's not in my reach anymore." Bruce replied coolly.

"What?!" Selina responded.

"Dick was not too happy with the arrangements so he decided to take matters into his own hands." Bruce stated simply. Figures, she thought.

Damn it, so he knows your identity. He might use it against you!

"Do you have any idea where he is?" Selina replied.

"Not at the moment but I am aware that he made some appearances with Harley in tow at a jewelers on Third and Fairfax." The playboy said in a calm tone.

"Oh my God, so he's back, so to say," Selina said crossly.

Bruce nodded. Selina's mind raced. This was bigger than she imagined. To Hell with the Joker, she thought, but she still had to get involved she reminded herself.

"Do you have any idea where he might strike next?"

Those were the most prophetic words Selina ever spoke because immediately after she made the remark, the whole place was suddenly distracted by a piercing falsetto.

"Hello, GOTHAM! You miss me?" Words came out from ruby lips like bullets. The Joker attacked like a lion into a herd of zebra and he was just about to make his checkmate.

"Damn," Bruce scolded under his breath, holding Selina close.

* * *

Next chapter: Behold the pale horse.


	43. Behold a pale horse

Title: One More Chance

Status: Multi

Genre: Thriller, drama, psychological, noir, romance, suspense

Era/setting: DCU before that stupid crisis in 2004.

Archive: Please

Feedback: Sure

Recommended reading: The Cake Games by kokoronoitami, The Game We Play by Dark Jester, Throwaway Card by Killing Joke

* * *

The clown's cacophony of cackles reverberated across the room. They had the emphasis and warning signs of a lion claiming his territory back in the savanna. It was an alarm system that danger was near. Everyone went into an ancient reaction mode in which their ancesters had bred into them through thousands of years of evolution. It was a reaction one got when they felt 'look, a predator is on the loose!' The clown's entrance was the breaking point in the otherwise calm atmosphere of the party. Now, no one cared about the brightly colored chandeliers that settled overhead or if networks were interviewing potential fashion icons. All eyes were laid on the Joker and his entourage. A set of burly henchmen, some of them veteran, made their way across the ball room like fire ants attacking a dying animal. Harley Quinn was its queen as she stood proudly next to her clown who had the aura of Rasputin but commanded the attention of a Ming Emperor. The clown's summer green grass of hair and trademark scarlet smile was a reminder of the city's inability to cure itself of this disease. The Joker was like herpes and he was back with a vengeance.

"Did you miss me?" The clown cooed and batted his eye lashes at the unsuspecting and scared guests. Their pale countenances read of dread and shock. It was the perfect reaction for the clown. He was used to it. He was not Brad Pitt and it was certainly better than being ignored. It meant that he did not lose his magic touch despite his recent….vacation. Clad in his trademark purple trench and fedora, the clown graced forward. His coattails were flowing. It gave him an almost otherworldly look. For too long, he had been associated with the city like smog to Los Angeles and hurricanes in Florida. He was a poison that everyone had gotten used to but hoped that they personally would not be the next target. The jester walked towards a circle of elite journalists and their dates. He took a piece of meatball from a frozen usher.

"You know those nasty rumors about me that you wrote in an article several years back? That was not nice, Reilly…" the clown said in a throaty purr that left the award winning journalist petrified. He was used to writing less than scathing articles about notable public figures. He barely recalled a time when he wrote about the Joker and his 'gimmicks'. Why would the clown be offended by something like that? Clown cars, joy buzzers, bombs….if those things were not gimmicks then they certainly were not Hasbro approved toys either.

"If you want to talk about gimmicks then maybe you should do some more research and write about my less than stellar colleagues. You know which ones, Double Ugly, the Weed and the hat fetishist…." The harlequin trailed off. "I have finesse in my work and I take great pride in it like Michelangelo and the Sistine Chapel, like Andy Warhol and his Campbell's soup art. Each little nuance is a reflection of my beautiful self and all you can say is that is 'gimmicky'?"

The journalist gulped. He suddenly went back to a time when he and his wife went to Lamaze classes and took breathing lessons.

"But Mr. Joker, the car, the toys, they do get um….repetitive…"

The Joker aimed a gun at the man's head. He could feel the cold round circle at his temple. He was thinking about how he was one muscle reflection away from being denied seeing his son go to kindergarten, graduate college and get married. This was not the time to stand up to a brutal psychopath.

The Joker cocked the weapon. All it needed was a reflex of his finger.

"Georgia O'Keefe made some not so subtle paintings of women's private parts and she was hailed as a genius. Can you still look me in the eye and still say she was gimmicky?" The Joker said in a hostile manner.

The man began to sweat. Calling the Joker a diva was an understatement. If the Joker was a supermodel he would be throwing things far worse than cell phones.

Reilly Williams could feel his intestines squeeze and his knees lock. The reaction was so strong that the only release he let out made a spot on his crotch. The Joker let out a triumphant smile. Harley let out an approving giggle.

"Well at least you did not make up rumors that I touched little kids. Now that would have really hurt my feelings…" the clown sighed and carried on. He was in search of his next victim.

The crowd at the gala made a semi circle around the white skinned man. He was seen as a leper but by no means was he being treated like one. Women held onto their dates and men held onto their glasses and programs. If no one had known the history between the clown and the city, one would have thought that they were all looking at the Dalai Lama. The man was certainly an entity unto himself.

"Bruce, what are you-?" Selina whispered.

"Nothing, just stand back. I'll handle this." Bruce replied back.

"Bruce, he knows!" Selina said in a forced whisper.

"Selina, don't get involved."

"I already am!" Selina shot back. Their heated whispers were virtually ignored as everyone settled their retinas on the clown. His skin was whiter than bone and his grinning face was the perfect symbol of memento mori. His face was like a grinning skull.

The Joker took a glass from a scared woman who let out a gasp. Tonight, the grim reaper wore mauve at the ball and he was having fun.

"You're not welcome here!" An elder statesman said to the clown. The Joker eyed him like a hawk. He took another sample from a food tray. It was salmon and Gouda on a cracker.

"And why not? Do I need a VIP badge? Harley?" The clown ordered. Like a trained dog, Harley shot at the usher directly to her right. A loud crack like thunder shot out into the ballroom, making the shot sound louder than it naturally did. It made the guests huddle closer together and let out whimpered noises. The clown was back in town.

"There, all better now, Senator Jones?" Joker said to the man as he patted him on the belly. "May I ask you something, Senator?" The clown cooed gently. The mockery of it all made the politician drone but he had to maintain his posture. He was a VIP that night and the last thing the proud man wanted was to look like a fool in the face of danger. He sentenced notorious killer Mad Dog Hawkins to death when the Joker was just a gleam in his father's eye. He also cut state bills in regards to state prisons. He had a vague but good idea at why the clown was interested in him all of a sudden.

"Say, _jefe_, you remember when you passed a bill that denied people such as myself electricity because we were, as you put it, 'lowlife scum who didn't deserve the riches' that you normal folk do?"

The politician was breaking a sweat. He remembered saying those words at a Conference in 1974 and hardly anyone brought it back to him in all this time. No one had to because he was right. He never would have figured someone would be offended, much less, have the offended parties stare back at him in the face. Twenty year old Josh Brolin looked on as his grandfather faced off with the sadistic clown. To him, the clown made the alien in the classic sci-fi film look like a puppy and at least that one was fictional, this one not so much.

"I can live with the fact that you denied me my soap opera and my weekly dose of Dancing with the Stars but did you really have to include having me getting cut off of my Jell-O? Instead you give us this mucky looking stuff that looks like a dog had dysentery. Explain that one please?"

The politician was visibly shaking. The clown was speaking in a normal tone but it did not help that he could have a bullet buried into his brain with one verbal command. A sweat drop ran down the old man's face and his breathing became shallow. His vital signs were getting affected by the clown's charms, if you can call them that.

"You're starting to sound like a Communist, Senator Jones. Did you go to bed with Leon Trotsky?" The clown crooned.

"Leave him alone," a familiar dark and husky voice commanded. All the room turned to the source of the voice. The Joker's grin was subtle but in his soul, it was a mile wide.

"Well, well, well, Bruce Wayne. Long time no see…" The clown's voice was as bitter as the salt of the sea.

It was bittersweet because it was a reminder that the clown had gone back to his old ways. If he only knew what really happened. He had remembered how time was precious. Four weeks ago, they were still bitter enemies. Three weeks ago, they became friends. Two weeks ago, they were closer. One week ago, it all came undone.

The unmasked playboy and the clown had finally reunited but the circumstances now were very different. The last time they talked, they were still allies. Now, it was as if nothing had ever happened between the two of them. It had shifted. It had disappeared, like a feather in the wind. Like air, it was felt but not seen. It had shifted like sand. There was an extra air of arrogance to the clown's demeanor. The way he propped himself up like a proud peacock strutting around, the clown paid no mind to the playboy's words.

The two men sized each other up. They were like two lions about to fight for a pride.

"Shouldn't you be conducting your affairs somewhere else, Mr. Playboy?" The clown said in a narcissistic manner.

"I have every right to be here, unlike you," Bruce said with all the calmness he could muster. Right now, the two of them were walking on eggshells. One wrong word, one wrong nuance and then someone could get hurt.

"I was talking about you and your harem of groupies. Sheesh. You're acting as if….you are hiding something Mr. Wayne…." The clown said in a pleasurable manner.

"I am NOT hiding anything, J-Mr. Joker…." Bruce said in a cool manner. "I don't want any trouble with you…."

Everyone in the room noted at how the calm but alert the clown was to the playboy's words. It was as if he had command of the killer clown. It was almost as if there was an intimacy between the two that the outsider's could not dare to breach.

The Joker glared at the man before him. He gave him a spiteful sneer that would make even the most proud demon yellow. Here was Bruce on his knees practically and wanting peace and after what he had done. That was a joke in it onto itself! The coup de gracie' would be if he would get on his hands and knees and kiss his feet.

"That's not what you said last night, or the day before…" Joker said quickly. It was like a knife through his skin, those words. The clown was testing him in front of all these people. The Joker had every right to be angry but he was playing with fire by making such private matters public. The only thing on Bruce's side was that the Joker's words were like water. They had no real weight because they were coming out of the mouth of a liar. At the same time, they bespoke cold hearted truth. He had not meant for this to happen.

"Joker…." Bruce began.

"Bruuuuuuuuuuuuuce…" the clown hissed. He was teasing him. Bastard.

Selina fumbled through her purse. She tried took look for some sort of utensil she could use as a weapon. Like a hawk's eye scanning for a meal, Harley Quinn caught the unmasked Catwoman digging through her purse frantically.

"Hey! What you lookin for there? Beano or Condoms? He belongs to me!" Harley Quinn screeched which made the surrounding bodies around Selina part exposing her. A black velvet glove grabbed at Selina's arm. Harley Quinn may have been petite but she had a grip and it didn't help that Selina had no access to her belt or weapons. The only thing she had was her body but what use would a kick do if she was in a dress? She would have to make due in any way that she could.

"Stop it, you!" Selina hissed.

"Not you! It's Harley Quinn, bitch!" Harley screeched and tossed her into the ring right behind Bruce. Suddenly, the clown's attentions were refocused on the svelte woman in black. Joker was keen on getting to know this vixen now.

"Well, hello, beautiful…." The clown licked his lips. He wiped his bony fingers into his hair giving him a perverse look of mock handsomeness. Selina could feel her stomach grumble. "My, aren't you pretty?" Joker cooed. Selina responded with a punch to the clown's jaw. Everyone in the room let out a collective gasp.

"Back off, asshole!" Selina hissed.

Joker turned back at her.

"Pretty ladies should not be using that kind of language, love. It makes them look like bitter old crones. You don't want to end up sixty years old in a house full of cats, right?" Joker cooed. He noted the apprehension in Selina's face. It was subtle but it was as bold as the first letter on medieval parchment.

"Have I struck a nerve, darling?" Joker said softly with the tenderness of a lover. "My you have such lovely eyes. They're like mine, see?" She could see the reflection of herself on the clown's green irises. They were almost like hers. It was a stupid conjunction between her and the clown. His were like acid, she said to herself. The Joker ran his fingers along Selina's jaw line, holding her closely. Harley Quinn was privately fuming

"Look at me, let me take a good look at you, doll." Joker said softly. Selina let out measured breaths. In her mind, the clown was anything but tender and yet here he was holding her softly. With cat-like reflexes she tried to aim for at least one more swipe across his face so that he would let her go but he caught her wrist and twisted it. She let out a yelp.

"What did I say about hitting me? It's impolite to be rude to guests…" Joker said warningly.

"I don't wanna know you! I already too much about you, you filthy brute beast!" Selina shot back. Joker pulled her close by shaking her arms. She felt her breasts graze at his bony chest through his silk green shirt.

"You're quite the saucy wench. I like you. You wanna join my team? If the other Purple One can have an entourage than I want one, too!" Joker giggled to himself. "You wanna be my Sheila E? Harley is my Vanity. You would be a perfect addition to my humble little brood." Joker said as he ran his fingers down Selina's raven black hair. Selina shook, like a frightened kitten. Joker pulled her close. The anger in her eyes was fierce. There was something oddly familiar about her. Like a scent, it would trigger back memories from years past. The mind was magic like that. It could be a word on paper or a phrase and it would trigger a memory to erupt from the cobwebs of the mind. It would make the person refocus and zero in. Selina's countenance did just that, but more importantly her eyes did that. Joker studied them delicately, like a scientist did with a Petri dish and the newest strain of virus. They were so fierce, so delicate, but most importantly, so very….cat-like.

The realization hit the clown like a ton of bricks. That would certainly explain why she had reacted that way and more importantly, how she was able to land a fist so perfectly on his chin. She did not look like a brawler. She looked like a model. Midnight workouts on roof tops, that would explain it. She still had fat thighs, though. The Joker's mouth stretched. Selina could see that there was something brewing in the clown's mind. It was realized when the clown pulled her forward and made her back press against his chest. He pulled out a gun and pressed it to her face.

"I sure would hate to make a perforation across this beautiful specimen, Bruce…." Joker said in a deceptive manner. Bruce's eyes widened. He was in a delicate position but he could not do anything drastic. The only way he could break through Joker was to try and 'talk' to him. It was easier said than done.

"Joker, let her go…." Bruce said in a straight laced tone.

"Is this your girlfriend, Bruce? You gonna let her come between us?" Joker said.

Just words, they were just stupid meaningless words but at the same time there was a kernel of truth to them. Selina was starting to get angry.

"Oh, screw it. You'd just be dead weight anyway…" Joker said as he shoved the woman into Bruce's arms.

"Farewell, love, parting is such sweet sorrow…."

It was unclear as to who the clown was talking to but that thought went into the back of Bruce's mind when he saw the clown reach for a gun, aim and shoot in their direction.

"NO!" Bruce yelled as he positioned himself in front of Selina. It proved to be futile as the gun had passed him but still found its way into Selina's arm. A yell reverberated throughout the hall. The Joker and his cronies left, taking some jewelry and some snacks with them.

Selina lay on the floor bleeding.

"Get me a doctor now!" Bruce demanded as he tore a piece of cloth from a table and wrapped it on Selina's arm. Her eyes were fading.

"Selina, hold on…." Bruce's voice faded. Like the voice of an angel, Selina drifted out of consciousness.

* * *

_Well, it's been three years but I am still here. Thank you all for reading. In case you are wondering, yes, that was a deliberate tip of the hat to the Dark Knight. It was one of my favorite parts of the film. Also, I wanted to note, the word 'jefe' is a Spanish word meaning chief. It can be used in a conjunction of meanings. Joker was of course being his usual sarcastic self. Peace. _


	44. Never After

Title: One More Chance

Genre: Suspense, Thriller, mystery, psychological, romance

Feedback: Sure

Archive: Yes please

Chapter 44: Happily never after

Synopsis: Joker and Harley have some fun

Author's note: I do not own. DC does. Bastards.

Originally written 11/29/2009

The clown sat hunched over a chair, scribbling madly onto a parchment of paper. Ideas were flowing from his hand like water to a parched throat. His mind worked feverishly as he let his creative muscles analyze and deduct his next idea which would evolve into a scheme which would then turn into a grandiose plan. Like pieces on a chessboard, Joker scrutinized his next move with the delicacy of a seasoned player. Like a detective, even he knew he had to stay a few steps ahead. Of course, there were those times he would come up with ideas that were so complex that they would make a spy from the USSR blush with envy. He tore up the paper and went back to square one. His mind was racing, his hands trembled and cracked. If anyone knew better, some would say that he inherited Michelangelo's_ terribilita_. He may have been a psychopath to some, a mass murderer to others, but there was no doubt that the man had a penchant to be creative. The Joker had a complex mind. He was always working on plans. On the outside, the media labeled him a walking chemical waste dump with no real control over his desire to kill. To them, it was a spasm, no different than a sneeze or orgasm. Truth be told, he was very aware of his surroundings. He had his cognitive abilities intact. He was not a rabid animal, he was a thinking one. He was obsessed with details. So was Manet and so was Tchaikovsky. Each stroke, each move was a carefully constructed one. It was small but vital, like a ligament in a leg or a screw in a house. It was important like a note on Beethoven's Symphony or a brush stroke on _Le' dejeuner sur l'herbe. _Each thought, each idea was a delicately crafted one. To some people, that would be considered tunnel vision. To Harley Quinn, it was the ultimate aphrodisiac.

She giggled at the idea of Joker being a little boy and paying attention to the minute details of his Legos and toys. He must have been a baby genius, she thought. They all start out somewhere. Joker's talent did not blossom until after the chemical bath. When they were having their therapy sessions, she had concluded that there was a kernel of truth to the Joker's past and psychosis. He was a misunderstood person and only she had exclusive passes to the magic that Gotham witnessed on special occasions. To some people, the Joker's mind was no different than looking at a five year old child's scribbles. To Harley Quinn, it was looking into the mind of an artist. He had the intensity of a summer in Calcutta, but he also had the elegance of a Crocus. That is how multifarious he was. No one could understand him but her. After all, she was kept within his employ. That was a merit that had some value, no doubt, she said to herself. Each scribble, each sound of pen on paper scratching was another plan bearing fruit.

This was how musicians would make hits. Harley looked down at her feet and her bodice. She was wearing her favorite fuchsia colored nightgown with black trimmings. The jester did not seem to respond to her choice red nightgown. It was too derivative. It was more about ego satiation than done to please HIM. To her, Joker was God and she was happy to oblige as his high priestess and at the same time, serve as his sacrificial lamb to wet his appetite. This was the only time Joker would pay attention to her. To Harley Quinn, being offered a small job was a gift but for Harleen Quinzelle, the woman, being conceded in an intimate moment meant more than a silly piece of paper with her name on it. Forget winning the Nobel Peace Prize, forget being awarded a Purple Heart or three. Being the clown's henchwoman had more profit than some medal and money.

Perky breasts and soft curves accented the thin purple material. It was the kind of teddy you would find in a Kmart catalogue, not Victoria's Secret. Either way, it was enough to make a heterosexual man salivate. Harley Quinn was aware of these gifts. They had been instilled into her by her mother. She knew of this mysterious aura that women had. It was made crystal clear when she saw her older sister in a tight outfit and heels at age seventeen. Men may have had the money and power in the public field, but it was women who drove men. It was a subtle form of control but an effective one. In private face, the females dominated that field. Harley chose not to make those commands visible. It was not done out of fear or respect but more for the fact that she took more satisfaction in being more clever in getting the clown's attention. It made the clown more patient with her which in turn would mean that he tolerated her more. It brought upon one of the most precious of rewards…his attention. She may not have shown it but she exploited it. At the end of the day, underneath the garish clothing, campy accent and red lipstick, the Joker was a man and like all men, they had their weaknesses. Harley had that power, that intuitive women's power. Like all men, Joker had this obsessive need to conquer. Maybe not in the conquistador or Genghis Khan sense but to introduce his own brand of order, called Chaos. She would happily be its Queen. She would be the Isis to his Osiris, the Marilyn Monroe to his Joe DiMaggio, the Mary Magdalene to his Christ.

The Joker was pure in his own way. He was a challenge like that and it tingled in her loins. It was like hearing the chorus of a favorite song. It gave her the excitement of a rollercoaster ride. It was a thrill and she wanted to relive it. The only thing standing in her way was that stupid piece of paper. The room was silent for the most part. The only thing you could hear was the sound of an oldies radio show that he liked. Everyone needed that certain type of noise to get into the mood. For her clown, it was the Karl and Mandy show. It was a 1940s duo that did interviews and talked about the great comedians of past and present. Harley crept forward with fire in her belly. The anticipation was getting to her. She was inching closer and closer. What did it take for him to notice her this time, at least? That was the challenge. One time, it involved voice impersonations and another time it involved sock puppets. Who knows what it would be this time. She was now right behind him. She began by blowing ears into his ears and neck. Nothing. Darn. It worked on Professor Stone back when she was in graduate school. No matter, maybe a little whoopee cushion would help. She blew into the rubber material and pressed out the air which created this embarrassing noise. Again, no response. It was a classic, like the rich old man and his girlfriend. She would have to try harder. She curled up behind him. Her arms were snaking around him like Ivy's vines.

The clown stopped momentarily and shuddered in his mind. Great. If there was anything that annoyed the clown it was putting up with an ovulating Harley Quinn.

The woman was like a mosquito on his when she was on her cycle. The clown's muscles tensed up and shriveled like dried fruit. If there was one thing he hated, it was being distracted by his creative endeavors. Da Vinci would not have finished the Last Supper had he been distracted by such….things. Joker sighed. He imagined Harley as a fly and him holding a giant can of bug spray. He let out a small smile. Harley caught it. It was like manna from the sky, like water on a parched desert. If Joker was a woman, she would have been drier than a graham cracker.

"Yes, cupcake?" Joker said sourly. It was a victory because he finally granted her what she craved most.

"Whachu doin'?" Harley said in the most kittenish voice she could muster. During role play game, it would make the clown's blood boil hot, but for right now, it was akin to hearing a train track come visit you at four in the morning.

"Rewriting the floor plans for Gianni Versace's mansion. What the Hell does it look like?" The clown said in a spitfire tone.

"You been there for hours…aren't you a little tired…..?" Harley said in a mock tone in which she stretched her arms which caused the strap of her nightie to fall past her shoulders.

"I had a Power Bar earlier today," the clown said nonchalantly as he continued scribbling down on the paper.

"Nu uh," Harley nodded. "Those are bad for you, Mister Jay. Those things have artificial preservatives and lots of sugar!" Harley said in a sweet tone. Harley's voice was like nails on a chalkboard, even when she tried to pull the Kathleen Turner sound. She had the welcoming presence of a stale fart.

He was losing his train of thought.

"Harley, baby, why don't you try and make yourself useful and see if you can TiVo Wipeout for me, please?" The harlequin of Hate said in a breathy tone. Harley smiled.

"I can't, the power is out." Harley said in a mischievous tone. Truth be told, she actually cut off the electricity in the funhouse they were staying in. Joker's radio was powered by some batteries they stole from a security guard but not before the clown cut off his tongue. She kicked the monkey wrench and scissors at her feet under a chair. She bit her finger and when she did so, she looked like one of Bob Guccione's Penthouse Pets. To the Joker, she was about as sexy as a moose head on a wall. The clown stood up. He had had enough of these reindeer games.

"Okay, pumpkin pie. You wanna play?" Joker said sadistically. That was the signal that Harley was waiting for. Now, she had more priority than one of those silly plans her puddin' gave too much weight to. For some women, it was jewelry from DeBeers or Tiffany's that determined if they were going to reward their hubby for the evening. For Harley, it was the wink and she went after it like a bee on honey.

"You see that old pool table there, love?" Joker said gingerly and nodded at the pool table that the boys used when they were bored.

"Spread 'em, now." The Joker commanded. Without hesitation, Harleen Quinzelle arched herself up on the table and lay on her backside, waiting for her boyfriend. Giggling in anticipation, Harley shuddered at the thoughts racing in her mind. Her clown was full of surprises. For some people, this would qualify as abuse and domestic violence. Harley thought that they were full of it. Their politically correct agenda had no effect on her whatsoever because in spite of being in a rocky relationship with the clown, despite putting up with his mood swings, his lies, his schemes, she wanted this. She sacrificed a lot. That's what Rachel and Job stood for in the good book. That is what her mother taught her. Whose life was perfect and normal anyway? Intimacy with the clown was anything but vanilla. Who else could say that? The clown hovered over her. He blew softly into her inner thighs. Harley could feel the moisture invade her red panties. The clown let out a small and sinister laugh. By this time, he had forgotten about those stupid plans. She was important now. She was the priority now. She was a Goddess waiting to be satiated. The Joker leaned up and hovered over his sacrificial lamb. Acidic green eyes bore down on the sky blue ones below him. She let out breathy sounds. She was losing it. The harlequin smiled to himself. He had her wrapped around his thin white boney finger. The clown began to loosen his collar. She reached up and began to undo his button. This surprised her because normally the clown would be more aggressive in his administrations and usually he was done within a minute or two. This time, however, he was taking it slow. There was actual foreplay involved. There must have been something wrong, she thought. That doubt went out the window because she then felt the clown press down on top of her and began to leave a trail of kisses on her neck.

Harley let out a loud gasp. It sounded like her last breath was escaping her. The clown responded with more forced administrations. It was crafty movements like these that made the experience more rewarding. Joker pressed against her womanly flesh. The jester let out a low purr into her ears. He sounded like a large tiger coming in for the kill. Harley spread her legs further. She could feel him pressed against her womanhood. She struggled a bit because she had trouble breathing. This only made the green haired man jolt and jump onto the table, which was now creaking under both their weight. Harley gasped. The clown spread his legs and straddled her, giving her no chance to escape.

"You're shuddering like a flower in the autumn, Harl…." Joker said. Harley let out a happy sound.

"Right there," she said out of habit. She caught herself because it sounded like an order. It did not seem to faze him. He placed his hands on both sides of her neck. He then brought them closer. She could feel a small squeeze when he placed them on her throat. He did not stop there, but why? Don't complain, Harl. You may not win the lottery but at least appreciate that the clown is giving you the time of day and is making love to you! She felt the clown's doeskin gloves reach down her neck and touch her collarbone. The harlequin had this otherworldly, almost vampire-like element to him. He was part predatory, part sensuous. He was the perfect amalgam of contradictions. He was almost Shakespearean in that regard. He was the epitome of _Discordia concors_. She then felt the clown's hands land on top of the mounds of her breasts. She could feel erect nipples grace themselves underneath her sheer nightgown and his gloves. At this point, she was just begging for the jester to tear off the garment. Who cares if the others saw them? Harley tried to reach down to rid herself of the annoying panties but not before she felt the clown return his hands onto her hands and massaged her. Harley let out controlled and measured breaths. She was taken aback by the exchange but at the same time was begging for more. The clown stopped petting her delicate neck. She let out a content purr. The white skinned clown pressed his hips down onto her. Harley reached up to bring him close but her concentration broke when she felt the clown squeeze at her throat again.

Oh, great, the choking game.

She hated it because it meant having to change positions frequently. This time, her resources were limited. The jester began to apply more pressure. Harley tried to reach down onto the clown's pants in an attempt to make him lose his focus on her, _momentarily_, but his knee pressed onto her thigh. Harley tried to fight it. She was torn between consenting to the clown's wishes and trying to control her air supply.

**This is what you wanted! **

Yes, but this hurts too much.

**What did you expect? Casanova?**

When Harley looked up, she could see the clown's face had changed from one of pleasure to one of grim concentration.

The Joker, her lover, was choking her.

Harley's eyes widened at the realization. She tried to move from under him but he only applied more weight onto her, crushing her. She tried to reach for a phone or one of Bud and Lou's toys but he grabbed her wrist and cracked it. Another broken bone, another broken heart. Harley let out a cry.

"Don't bother. I sent the boys out to dinner at Tony Roma's. I had a coupon." Joker said as he continued to choke Harley. She struggled, he only held her down. There was only one escape, death. Harley saw her vision become blurry and her eyes shut down. Her breathing was labored and her lungs were on fire. Harley could see the frustration grow on Joker's face. Harley's breathing became more and more weakened. Finally, her body gave out and went limp.

The half clothed clown stood over her for a few minutes before he decided to finally get off of her.

"Don't ever come between me and my work, okay, cupcake?" The clown said bitterly.

Blue eyes fluttered open. She regained her slight first before her other senses could register in her brain. She saw a stone wall. She could smell medical adhesives. She could hear the sound of orders and wheels being carted about. She knew where she was now. She was back in Arkham.

"You were out for several hours," a dark husky voice shattered the silence. Harley's mind snapped back into reality. It was a sensation akin to that when you are drifting off into sleep and you jolt yourself awake. In Harley's mind, it was not voluntary.

"What do you know?" The petite blonde said in a bitter tone. Harley may not have been Miss Olympia but she made up for it with skilled gymnastics and a rattlesnake like demeanor.

"The staff found you in front of the gates in hardly anything but a rag. Your temperature dropped down to dangerous levels. Twenty minutes longer and you would have died."

Harley Quinn curled up on the bed. Her orange jumpsuit greatly contradicted the dark storm that was forming in her mind. Nothing could capture the Sturm und Drang that raged within her, not even Goethe.

"What happened, Dr. Quinzelle?" The Dark Knight spoke up. They were like sharp spikes pierced at her skin. No one had spoken to her like that save for the Arkham staff and they usually did it to lecture her.

"Nothing, just a lover's quarrel, that is all," Harley said in a huff.

"Is it really, Quinn? A lover's quarrel does not usually end in being tossed out like trash or being tossed out a ten story window." Batman said darkly. For Harley Quinn, denial was smooth and comfortable like a river. Truth was icy cold.

"Why do you do this? You have a professional degree. You could do so much…"

The dark detective knew that the question was a futile one but it was best to approach Harley as humanely as possible. Harley Quinn rewound the tape in her brain. The same ideas, the same thought processes, the same rationalizations echoed 'because'. It was an empty word. It was a rationalized excuse. It was a romanticized pretext. It was a quick getaway but not a grand escape. She was stuck to what she knew like tar. It was disgusting and sticky but it was all that she knew. It was all that she was familiar with. A child who grew up in an abusive household is going to become numb to the impact society tries to project onto the individual. Harley tried to convince herself that she was too numb to notice but the truth of the matter was that she still felt the pain. The crux of it all was not Joker's treatment of her. It was that she allowed it. She tolerated it. She knew what she was getting into. She knew she was getting into shark infested waters the minute she wanted to therapy on him, so why does it hurt now that she knew she was bitten? Harleen bound her face into her knees. A small mouse-like sob broke the silence between hero and villain. The Dark Knight leaned over and passed her a tissue in an attempt to make a connection with the sobbing jester.

"Harleen, I can't help you if cannot help yourself," the Batman said finally.

Great, he is pulling the Doctor Phil shtick now. Harley wiped the tears from her face. They were now a see through color.

At this point, the Batman no longer saw a sobbing and giggling idiot with a penchant for bombs. This was a psychologically broken human being. This was not someone he had to chastisize for their poor decisions. This was someone who was tossed out of a window. This was not someone who deserved the treatment that they got. Harley Quinn may have been the Joker's squeeze but she was in no way on the same playing field as him. At best, she made poor choices. Bruce caught himself and mentally kicked himself for sounding like the Boy Scout.

"Harleen, can you tell me where the Joker is? If you cooperate with me, I will see to it that the Arkham staff will be more lenient with you." The Dark Knight said in a reassuring voice. This was not about television privileges or five star restaurant meals. It was about getting some answers and keeping one's word. Harley wiped the tears from her eyes. This was the same man she had beaten up. She remembered feeling the bone crack when she whacked him on his head while he was hanging upside down. No one ever gave her a second chance and here she was being offered an opportunity. Finally, she spoke up.

"The clown will be at Ninth and Western. He said he was gonna pay someone a visit."

Damn, once again, he slipped by. That was where Scarecrow's lawyer lived.


	45. To Kill A Mockingbird

Title: One More Chance

Genre: Action adventure, psychological, noir, suspense, romance

Synopsis: Joker makes a visit to a certain someone

Archive: Yes

Feedback: Sure

Recommended reading: The Game We Play by Dark Jester, Throwaway Card by Killing Joke, The Cake Games by kokoronoitami, Path of the Jester by Jokerlady

Author's note: I do not own. The characters save for my two OCs belong to DC Comics and Warner Brothers.

* * *

Elena Romero turned the faucet. The water below it was steaming like a hot spring and it beckoned her to relax her muscles. It had been a long day. It had been several days since she last heard from the Scarecrow. The last thing he told her was to 'be safe'. When it came out of his parched lips, it was like hearing a loon hoot in the middle of a Canadian winter. The host might not have been much to look at but it soothed her nonetheless. Aside from helping the Scarecrow in some grand master plan in which she got some financial cuts, she had also been dealing with cut throat television networks. She had been on newscasts to weigh in her opinions on hot topics of the day of the suicide of a father who attempted an extortion plot against the mother more than ten years ago and the love lives cheating ways of sports figures.

Her big rival was Stacy Drew who worked for GNN. Romero thought that she scrutinized things down to minute detail and it was aggravating. Luckily she was given a script to follow. It was impeccable in detail and information that it became frozen to the law enforcement that Drew would call on to check on her stats. Luckily, for Romero, Drew was seen as nothing more than a tabloid sensationalist who loved to bully people into submission. She had also just dealt with a run in with the clown. She knew that the Scarecrow and he were not on the best of terms. In fact, the Master of Fear, or Jojo, as she liked to call him referred to the clown as the resident bully with self esteem and control issues. Judging by what she had seen transpired at the gala that night, two nights ago, the clown was anything but the insecure whiney little boy that Crane painted him. He knew how to command a room, like a conductor at a Symphony. He had this air of confidence and could not help but mesmerize his captives, even if it meant their lives. It was as if they were frozen in mind and body. He hypnotized them like a snake. No wonder that bumbling fool Bruce Wayne failed to do a damn thing and in turn, his date got hurt in the process. Elena Romero had just barely missed the clown's bullet. It was amazing how life was like a giant jigsaw puzzle and at the same time, as delicate as a thin membrane. One bullet, one muscle reflex, one choice, one person could change all that.

Life was so stressful at times. Sometimes she wishes she could finally close her eyes for good and all of life's complications would finally cease to exist. No more, worries, no more paying the bills, no more guilty consciences. She took off the robe. Five day a week workouts were paying off nicely. She had put on five pounds during the trial of Sammy 'The Toad' Rochella. She would be seeing him again next week. She settled into the warm pool. She began to add bubbles. The smell of soapy powder and the sounds of her New Age and World Music compact disc beckoned her to release herself from the bridles of worry and discipline. As soon as the water enveloped itself over her tan body, the lawyer could feel herself lose her sense of alertness and drift into a suspension between gravity and real life. Now, that did not matter. She may have been lying on her back, naked, in a pool but her spirit was in St. Vincent and Grenadines, sipping tropical drinks and dancing the night away at a Caribbean club. She was suspended between Earth and air and it was beautiful. It was like learning to breathe again and releasing the toxins and smog that sweltered in her lungs like Los Angeles smog.

She reached out and put on two cucumber slices on her eyes.

Her bathroom was designed by gifted architects. The tiles were an aquamarine color. The sink and floor were made of slate and the faucets resembled mermaids and Nereids. There were decorations on the wall of things associated with various marine life. The faucets were made of gold and the towel rack was a simple jet black railing.

Candles were on the tub and floated like water lilies. They were suspended by a rosebud that held them in place. It looked like an image ripe for the cover of the next Healing Garden catalogue. For Elena Romero, this was the stuff that was bought with laundering money. That's okay though. In this world, the only way to get ahead was to fight dirty. Spain did not become a superpower in the sixteen century by playing nice with the Natives. Hugh Hefner did not own a billion dollar empire without indulging in a little exploitation of the female body. The most skilled card players must master the art of deception if they want the chips.

The song that began to play was called 'Caw of the Crow'. It was an old Negro spiritual that never made it outside of the cotton fields of Mobile, Alabama but had survived over two hundred years of obscurity. The song lived in some run down churches and was revived once again. The soft hum of the Gospel choir reverberated in her mind and body like a wave on a beach.

The hum grew louder as did the voices of the choir. She thought she set the volume a little too loud but she was not in the mood to get up and change it. She had been caught in a place between one hundred percent consciousness and dreamland. The song grew louder but it was obvious that the hum was back to a low tone. It was noticeably louder. Must be the compact disc player or that pesky cat, she thought. Friskies was like a precocious child. He must have been fascinated with the sounds coming out of the boom box, she thought.

Elena's concentration was broken when she heard the compact disc player rise up in volume but this time, it was no technical glitch and Friskies did not have the energy to turn up the volume to the twenty maximum setting. It shook her mentally and made her heart race. She did not want to think that her evening was going to get ruined by a pesky CD player.

She could not have imagined what her gaze met when she saw what she did when she let the cucumber slices fall of her eyes and fall into the hot water.

She saw a lanky man, about six feet tall, dressed in purple. His ghostly white skin was marked with an impeccable shade of red and a cascade of jade colored hair.

"Oh, don't mind me. I am just enjoying the view. I bet you never took me for a Peeping Tom, eh, precious?" The clown hooted.

The woman threw a bottle of shampoo at the clown's direction. It might have worked on a cat but the effect would not go warranted on a psychopathic killer clown.

"I knew there was a fire beneath that cocoa colored skin. I do find it appealing on a woman. That's why I got Harley as my Captain's Wench though she seems to have been pink slipped. You know how it is, nowadays. We have to cut back."

Elena growled. How dare this monster enter her private quarters while she is in this condition? She dared not to stand up because the last thing she wanted was to give the clown more reason to look at stay. Oh, God, the idea of him being sexual, even remotely had the effect of drinking dirty water in Jalisco.

"What do you want?" Elena said darkly. The clown scoffed.

"What kind of a question is that? I am a man, you are a woman and naked. It's my dream come true. Are you that dense? But first, I have to ask you a few questions in regards to a special friend. OUR special friend, I want to stress…." the Joker said snidely.

Elena did not even want to think about what Joker was suggesting in the beginning of that sentence but the mere suggestion was haunting her.

"I don't know what you are talking about." Romero said in a snappish manner.

"That's like saying you never heard of Michael Jordan or the Marx Brothers. They are about as iconic as Coca Cola and McDonald's. You may have come from a slum south of the Border, my dear but I refuse to buy that for one red hot minute!"

The clown did his homework and that was her worst nightmare.

"You got your degrees in Criminal Justice and Law from Gotham State. You traveled extensively and did some interviews over with that witch Stacy Drew. God, that woman is a witch!"

For once, she and the clown agreed on something but then again, spiders were exotic creatures but that did not mean that she wanted to own one.

"You wanted to represent the Scarecrow in an unrelated case but grew closer to him for some unspecified unknown. My reason is that you just happen to find tall skinny men with moldy teeth sexy, right?"

For Romero, it was like getting caught red handed. Don't give him a clue. Do not give him anything.

"You are a stern one. Kind of like the Bat, did anyone ever tell you that? You are so mysterious…." Joker cooed. His tone was lower. He was giving a soft sensuous aura when he did that but she did not want to admit that.

"Tell me, Doctor Romero, or do you prefer Elena? I had a girlfriend named Glenda once. Are you two twins?" Joker queried. Once again, he was met with silence and that was his cue to keep going. "Do you remember that one time when you were six and you were scared when the coyote made it into the chicken coop and was chasing you?"

The lawyer reflected. She could not place where she made that comment but she knew it was a one sentence reflection. The clown actually found it while browsing online at the Bat's cave.

"Time magazine, May 2001." Joker said calmly. "Do you remember when you interviewed someone in a pep rally for some Ivy League school about four years back? You made a comment about minority students but the Tribune forced you to retract the statement. I guess they did not want to look hypocritical because their star reporter was apparently Uncle Tomming." Joker shushed. Elena's stomach tightened. She had assumed it was a non issue. She barely recalled getting twenty emails about the topic but by the end of the week it had been forgotten like the day's garbage.

"You can thank yahoo message boards for that one. I'm sorry but just because you click delete or clean out your files does not mean that it is forgotten. People collect trash for some reason or another. Some do it for identity theft purposes. Others dig out dirty condoms because that one teaspoon of juice can be worth seven million dollars. Me, I just like to browse. Arkham has too many Dan Brown books and I HATE Dan Brown!" Joker screeched.

Elena's mind raced. All these events, how did the clown know? He did his research. The man may have been labeled a psychopath with no conscience but his attention to detail was second to none. If only Roger paid that much attention.

"You remember Roger Klein. Your college boyfriend, remember him? The one you caught cheating with that Hawaiian girl? That was in an issue of Cosmo. Harley likes reading that junk. One time, I was in the john and I was in no mood to read one of Harley's trashy romance novels. You are more fascinating than that cow Gloria Allred, I tell you what." Joker said in a mock Southern drawl. "You went Vegas together, planned a honeymoon in Rome and all sorts of beautiful things but that was before you caught her wearing your peach colored nightie that you got from Vickie's Secret."

The detail, the recollection but not only that, the look in his eyes went from dark cynicism to tenderness. His voice and body language had reflected the change in mood. He leaned down, he looked like the dear Uncle Chucho the way he did before…

"Your uncle Patrico. He did something to you, didn't he?" Joker's voice hissed. If looks could kill, the clown would be six feet under. "What did he do, dear?" Joker said with the calmness of a school counselor.

"Nothing," she said calmly but her eyes reflected a dark juicy secret that was begging to be revealed.

"Are you sure about that one, love?" We are almost getting to the part where you join Arkham's family."

She did not want to revisit that old place. It was long gone and buried like her pet dog at the family home where her grandmother now lived.

"He touched you, didn't he? Made you do things you were unsure of? Said something about turning you into a woman?" Joker said darkly. Elena's mind snapped. He had gotten into her dirty laundry. It wasn't the exact wording but the clown was spot on. How did he know? She looked at him.

"I didn't know the last one but you sure do have the markings of such. I can tell."

The monster knew all along and she fell for it and she did not do anything much less say a word. She revealed a secret to him that he had no right to access and she still failed to protect it.

"Why else would you be attracted to someone like Johnny? That's severe daddy issues abound? My question is why didn't you go for someone with finesse?" Joker coughed in a mocking manner. He had the presence of a creepy wooden puppet that her Uncle Julio owned. "I'm telling you, you are giving it off like the smell of Durian!"

"He offered me a job. It was nothing more than a few thousand dollars to represent him but I saw something else." She said finally. Joker leaned in.

"What did you see behind the straw and smell of urine, Elena?" Joker said bitterly.

She saw a little boy being kicked and bound because he was so skinny. She saw a young man get belittled because he would rather spend his money on books than the latest fashions. She hated metrosexual men.

"I saw a human," she said finally.

"That's what Harley said to Jeremiah Arkham, did you know that?" Joker said calmly. Elena brought a towel closer, not just in an attempt to hide her body but hide her shame as well. "Why do broads such as yourself get involved in things that don't concern you? Have you not heard that song 'This Is a Man's World'?" Joker said with a scoff.

"It was just about money and financing but it got deeper and I could not control that." She said.

"You don't say. When did you realize that you were in deep doo doo? Was it when you were offered a two million dollar contract and a summer home? Was it when you felt weird about those files that the Scarecrow gave you? Was it when it involved me?"

Truth be told, she had been caught in a Spider web and she did not realize that somewhere along the details the clown would be involved.

"I will have you know that the Riddler was using my precious poison and used it on people without my permission and now I am getting framed when I DID NOT DO THAT! Are you telling me that you had no clue about that? That's like getting the blame when someone else ripped one." The clown said sternly.

Elena shook her head. Did Saul GH Laur know about this connection? She remembered feeling a little strange about some of the extra loose ends when she taped the conversation between the Scarecrow and herself. She knew that the Scarecrow did not like the Joker but the fact that he did not tell her that the clown would be involved somehow? Was this a third party issue?

"You are more full of it than the last President!" Joker spat back.

"Mister Joker, I swear I did not know that you would be caught in the middle of this…" she said with shaking tone.

"Is that how it is now, is it? When I come a knocking at the door, you kiss my feet!" Joker sighed.

"Mister Joker, all I understood was that I was offered a deal and I wanted to help Jonathan," she said calmly.

"Do you really think you are a _Paloma Blanca_, Miss Romero? Your honor disappeared more quickly than a pair of panties at the Playboy mansion." Joker said snidely. "Don't think you can full me with that rubbish!" The clown said sourly. "You did it for love, right?" Joker said darkly. Elena did not move. At this point she was freezing from being exposed out of the water. Joker threw her a towel.

"You wanted the fame, the fortune, you wanted it all." Joker said finally. Elena looked up. She had been exposed. "You wanted the limelight but at the expense of hurting others and riding someone else's coattails. You are no different than the women who are after Tiger Woods and Ted Bundy." Joker said coolly.

Elena shook. Underneath the professional flair, underneath the makeup and college degrees, being associated with a known psychopath had its thrills but she was no Jaycee Dugard or Susan Atkins as the clown was implying.

"Sweetheart, I have lived through that. Believe me, you are a dime a dozen!"

"That is not true!" She protested as she pulled on a robe and let the bottom half get soaked.

"You don't think people like Double Ugly or your boyfriend don't get letters from admirers around the world?" The clown said brutally.

At this point, she knew the clown was just taunting her. He couldn't do that, no he wouldn't, she thought.

"Oh, stop it!" The clown said sharply as he pushed her into the tub.

"You despicable….women….getting involved in things!" At this point, Romero noted that the clown looked more like he was talking to himself than her. She noted the blank stare on his gaunt face.

Joker's mind raced with the image of Harley breaking the Bat's head. He remembered her taking his ideas of the piranhas and turning it upside down. That was forgery to the tenth degree and that was inexcusable. His heart raced with the image of that giggling idiot in red and black. She was laughing, laughing at him. Joker turned to the lawyer. She was no longer the poised and calm woman that people saw on Court TV. She was scared like a newborn kitten.

"Well, I can't be too hard on you," the clown said in a low tone. It was perhaps his most frightening. "You did give me an important piece of the puzzle but I still can't forgive you for not being honest with me. I didn't even put a gun to your head…" the jester said warmly. He tapped his hands on the compact disc player which was now playing the last track. All she could look at was the clown's skinny silhouette.

"It's such a pity, it had to end like this, my dear but you should have known that you were playing with fire the minute you offered the million dollar deal. You're more ambulance chaser than Atticus Finch." Joker said finally before he pushed the stereo into the bath tub.

The electrical current was like fireworks but better. Blue rays shot out of the water like water sprouts. Elena Romero shook violently as she felt the hot rays invade her body and get to her nervous system. She looked like cracking popcorn, Joker thought to himself. Joker's mind savored the woman's suffering. He imagined her insides getting roasted like a marshmallow. He wholly enjoyed seeing her gasp for her last breaths of air. Her muscles and circulatory system were out of whack. Watching her die gave him the pleasure he had not felt in months. When he shot that bitch Catwoman sans costume and when he choked Harley, it was like smelling mom's baked apple pie but now that he was watching a woman get electrified to death, it was like savoring that bite he had been craving for so long.

Finally, after a few excruciating minutes, the woman sank down into the bath tub. Sparks gave off their last breaths of air.

"Hmmm, I feel like seafood. I feel like eating fried land shark." Joker said to himself. Joker opened the medicine cabinet and noted a single lipstick in the left corner. He opened it. It was the perfect blood red. He began to apply some to his lips. After that, he closed the mirror door and began to write on it.

He turned around and left. After a few minutes, the Bat showed up. Judging by the smell of burnt flesh, he knew he was too late. Joker had left a mark. He looked down and saw a Joker card on the bottom near the bathtub. Upon closer inspection, he saw that it had kiss embedded on it. He turned to the mirror. It had some writing:

**JOKER WAS HERE**

* * *

Paloma Blanca means 'white dove' and it is a metaphor meaning innocent and pure. I hope you enjoyed this piece. We are getting closer to the big finish! In answer to JackNapier's question, someone took care of the illness a few chapters back. We'll find out who soon.


	46. Desert Rose

Title: One More Chance

Genre: Romance, suspense, drama, thriller, psychological, noir, action adventure

Synopsis: More pieces fit

Archive: Yes

Feedback: Appreciated.

Authors' note: Written for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement is intended.

Recommended reading: The Game We Play by Dark Jester, Throwaway Card by Killing Joke, The Cake games by kokoronoitami.

* * *

Selina was not fatally injured but the bullet had affected a deltoid muscle. It was the arm she used when she needed to crank her whip. It would almost be like learning to write again, she thought. At least the wound was not fatal but with her skills, it might as well have been. Selina reclined her head on the pillow. She felt she had been defanged and declawed. She was no longer the predatory Catwoman her id wanted to project. She was now mere human. She was now Selina Kyle and she was in a hospital lying in bed. She had been there a few hours but it felt like an eternity. She already felt that she had slowed down considerably and that in turn would hurt her chances in the case. She felt partially responsible for being in this Labyrinth. This must have been what it was like for the Minotaur, she thought. The doctors prognosticated that she needed at best two days before she would be allowed to be discharged. Selina could not wait that long. One day was enough and this was on insurance paid for and provided by Bruce Wayne! She seriously considered a midnight escape. It was the best possible option but what good would an escape be if her primary arm muscle was ruptured? You might as well be asking for salt in the wound. A nurse came in and provided Selina with an injection.

"Hold still." She said. Selina noted that she was very pretty. She was no more than twenty five, twenty eight at best. There was something oddly familiar about that skin and walk and those eyes, oh those eyes. It was like hearing a lyric to a song but forgetting the name or the singer. The pain subsided a bit. The nurse then left. At that moment, Bruce Wayne entered the room. He brought a bouquet of flowers. Selina could tell that he had just gotten off from 'work'.

"Thanks'" she said.

Even without makeup, Selina had this aura and beauty towards her. Bruce overheard the nurses gossiping and debating whether or not Selina was a model of some sort.

"Irena Dubrovna," he said finally.

"What?" she said momentarily before her mind snapped back into reality. That was her check in name. She had a few others but that one was her favorite.

"You're getting a little too predictable Selina. They might track you down now," Bruce said in a paternal fashion.

"Hey, the nurse recognized me and it was the quickest way that they would get me in." Selina interjected. "Holly once had a bad infection and this was a long time ago, when I was just getting started. I needed Selina out of my life. I said that Irena was a third cousin four times removed." Selina said quietly. The effects of the medicine were working albeit slowly. It was frustrating, like Midol. Cures menstrual cramps my foot, she said.

"I'm sorry Selina" Bruce said finally. Selina nodded.

"No, don't. It was wrong place at the wrong time but I'm still living."

"How many more lives do you have left?" Bruce queried.

"That's between me and my Maker now." The Cat sans costume responded sharply.

"Since when did you overcome a religious epiphany?" The playboy asked.

"I didn't. It was just an expression. You're not allowed to ask so many questions until you are in the costume." Selina replied.

Bruce caught himself. He as tightly wound up. He wouldn't even breathe. At least that is what it felt like.

"Bruce, I am fine." Selina said. "So the clown got a muscle. The worst it could do is slow me down but not stop me. You don't think that bothers me?"

"I should have moved."

"No, don't you understand? He was aiming for me! He aimed for me because he was jealous!" Selina said finally. "Even if you moved the clown would have aimed for me. That's how cunning he is, Bruce. Wake up! This isn't the birthday clown you were used to! He's changed!" Selina reiterated.

It wasn't the fact that the clown was no longer the same. It was that he hurt Selina. In his mind, it was no more a worst sin than the time he heard the bullet eject from the hollow metal and shoot like fireworks and enter his parents flesh and brought him into this sanctuary.

The Joker INTENDED to hurt her to get to him. Even if the bullet did not graze his skin, the clown emotionally violated him. It was like how he emotionally broke Barbara when he shot her in the spine.

"Bruce? I-?" Selina began, she could see that she struck a nerve.

"No, Selina." Bruce started. He could not get caught up in this emotional roller coaster anymore. It was just wasting seconds. He was caught between two minds, the one that told him to slow down and indulge and the one that nagged him into stop wasting time for silly things.

He felt even more sympathy for Harvey now than he ever did.

"Bruce, I am sorry. I am listening with the claws out and here you are just checking on me. I didn't mean to." Selina said quietly. She didn't do it to criticize Bruce. She criticized his mindset at times but that would be like telling a bull how to learn to use a trumpet.

"Selina, I brought you into this and you did not deserve it," Bruce replied sadly. Once again, he was blaming himself.

"Bruce, you are not a mind reader."

"But he was aiming at you." Bruce snapped.

"And you think I was gonna let you take the bullet?" Selina replied sharply. She may have been less experienced with the clown but she was a professional in matters like these. It was like Selina was a biologist but she also knew the mechanics and technicalities of meteorology. Underneath the makeup, stolen kisses and penchant for thievery, there were times when he underestimated at just how resourceful and intelligent Selina was.

"I was not gonna let him hurt anyone else either way. Better me than some innocent bystander," Selina sighed.

Anyone who regarded Selina as no more than a mere 'gutter slut' was an uneducated fool. She had a heart that was so full of gold that the riches of Louis the Fourteenth could not compare. It was outside value. It was cold and had no feeling or soul. The true value was within.

"How are you feeling?"

"I've been through worse," Selina admitted.

Bruce remembered in the deepest recesses of his mind that when Selina was nineteen she was found almost left for dead. She was tossed out like trash. That's no way to treat a human. Selina was cracking jokes here and communicating. She was not on life support at least.

"Bruce. They said I probably won't be out until tomorrow, two days at the latest." Selina said as she struggled to maintain composure.

"Don't move, those were the doctor's orders." Bruce said warningly.

"You're not my father," Selina said darkly.

"Do you want to stay an extra two days?" Bruce said sharply.

"Okay, this is getting ridiculous." Selina said finally. "Just go on and do your thing." Selina said in a huff. "I am not in the mood to be talked down to when I offered help."

On that note, they both knew that there was no point in communicating. Every word was scrutinized by the other party. Selina would only apologize for saving his life and he would blame himself for her getting hurt. It was best that they both would be apart for now.

Bruce left abruptly. He had to do this alone now. He did not want to think of it as some test. He did not want to go into that mindset his colleague Diana stressed. No, not the Princess of Moldova or the late philanthropist.

He was thinking about the other Diana.

This was NOT a sign. That was silly.

It was about ten minutes after Bruce left that the pretty nurse came back. Selina ignored her until she took her hand.

"Weren't you just here?" Selina looked at her with suspicion. Doctors had a complex set of orders but the last thing she wanted as an overdose.

"That was just a placebo," she said calmly. The nurse had a mask that covered half her face. The only thing you could see were those amber colored eyes. They were like an oasis in a place where the smell of death and alcohol ran rampant. It was almost like a mirage and her warm demeanor reflected that.

"This might sound a little strange but I feel as if I have seen you before…" Selina said softly. She was trying to get her mind over what had just transpired.

"Not strange, Selina Kyle." The woman replied.

At that point, Selina's heart raced. NO ONE had called her that in a hospital setting. She had always used the same name or one of the throwaway ones to get her prescription to get something for Holly. Whoever this person was, they had done their homework.

"Excuse me?" Selina said. She trying to dodge the question but it was as futile as saving the Titanic.

"It's no use Selina. You know very well who I am."

At this point, Selina could hear the chorus and bridges but she could not get the title out of the tip of her tongue. If this was a game of hot and cold she would be in the Devil's kitchen.

The nurse removed her mask. Selina could not tell if this was a nightmare or if she was trapped in some kind of sophisticated novel.

It was her old nemesis, Talia al Ghul. Those Asian inspired eyes were remarkable.

"If you are going to kill me, then you are mistaken." She mentally kicked herself for letting Bruce go.

"Not kill, Selina. Help. I am here to help you and what purpose would I have for killing you if it would only upset Bruce?"

She may be daddy's little girl and a spoiled rich brat but her Machiavellian philosophy was there. It was like putting the mongoose up against the cobra.

"If you take this, it will lessen the pain in your muscles and regenerate cellular growth," Talia said calmly as she applied Selina with the medicine.

"What was it that you gave me before then?" Selina asked. She could feel the effects work like magic.

"That was hot water," Talia said calmly.

That figures. It was like applying a hot water bottle for menstrual cramps.

"Why are you doing this? What do you get out of this?" Selina asked. At this point and time, it was no use dismissing random moments such as this as nothing.

"I am doing this as a favor for an old friend." Talia said calmly.

"How can I trust you if your father is Lazarus walking?" Selina exclaimed.

"Because, Selina, I can guarantee that you will not get hurt anymore. If you do, it's my life. Think about that." Talia said calmly. It was almost too calm. It was almost programmatic.

"Wait! That's not enough!"

Talia disappeared in a quick flash. The dust created an escape route. She slipped by like a snake. She had the vagueness of a riddle but the presence of Princess Leia but without the purity. For Selina, she felt as if she had to solve the Riddle of the Sphinx. She could not dismiss Talia's words.

She took advantage of an open window.

* * *

Bruce cross referenced the bullet that grazed Selina and matched it with the ones he had managed to acquire thanks to the cooperation of his friend Jim. God bless that man. He was a saint amongst men. The serial number was a perfect match between the weapons Harley used at the gala, when she shot at him and when the Mad Hatter showed up uninvited which confirmed what he already knew. He did a few checks and cross referenced with some details provided for by Tim and Dick who were invaluable to him as resources. He noted a pattern. There was a mass distribution. If you wanted to cover your tracks, that was a bad thing. That was unless whoever was responsible for all of this WANTED Bruce to follow and was purposely tugging at his detective heart strings. It was almost too easy but going back to what Holmes said, a likely impossibility was better than an unlikely possibility.

The one that was nagging him was what Riddler told him at the pit of the Pandora's Box. What do a lover's lips, the fountain of youth and the keys to the locked recesses mean?

Bruce knew that the last part was Arkham. It represented everything he could not stand. The first two had a pattern, but what.

A lover's lips? Whose? Selina? Silver? Vesper? Sasha?

Joker? Talia?

The words Fountain of Youth were only a synonym to something he was all too familiar with.

The great mathematician Archimedes' moment in the bath tub could not match to this.

It all came together now, like pieces in a puzzle.

* * *

The Joker was donning a cowboy hat and spurs. He was humming the tune to Bonanza as he did so. He connected the last piece of dynamite equipment. He marveled at Arkham which he used as a Hotel like Bruce used the Venetian in Las Vegas. Its star host had escaped but little did the staff know was that he was outside. The Asylum was nothing more than a skeleton of its former self. It was up and running but it was no longer what it once was. It became the sick man of Europe, or to put it more precisely, the sick man of Gotham. It was outdated and useless. Who the Hell uses Asylum nowadays? That was a nineteenth century term. Going by some of their logic, great minds like Warhol belonged there. The clown chuckled. He knew he was ahead of the curb. To the clown, the Asylum was nothing more than Carthage and it needed to be salted.

Jeremiah Arkham was its Hannibal.

The clown sat on the switch and watched the Asylum blow up. It was something that not even the 1986 Challenger explosion could capture. It was Hell on Earth and the Joker was its Lucifer.

"Joker!"A dark, hoarse voice broke out.

The clown's green eyes turned to the source.

Perfect timing. Comedy is always about the timing.

"_Mon ami_?" Joker said with the pretentiousness of a snake.

The two enemies met once more.

* * *

We're on the home stretch now, little monsters!


	47. The Battle At Arkham I

Title: One More Chance

Genre: Suspense, Mystery Thriller, Psychological,

Era/setting: Post crisis 2004ish.

Archive: Yes

Feedback: Please.

Synopsis: The showdown

Author's note: I do not own, so please do not sue. This was written for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement is intended.

Recommended reading: The Game We Play by Dark Jester, The Cake Games by kokoronoitami, Throwaway Card by Killing Joke.

* * *

The clown could feel the thumping of his heart beat against his chest. It had the force of an angry sea beating against a ship which could barely sustain it. Not even Moby Dick's beating tail against Ahab's boat could compare to the sheer force of rage that boiled within his lithe body like a volcano. His Cortisol levels skyrocketed and his muscles tensed. His blood raced throughout his body. The raw feeling the Joker experienced was nothing that an administered drug could reduce. It was like a force on its own. It was almost like a trance. Joker zeroed in on his arch-nemesis like a hawk. Nothing else that surrounded him, not even the fire and debris from the bombing, could sustain his concentration on the horned figure standing before him. Joker was mesmerized and at the same time, raging mad beyond all comprehension.

He was ready to strike. His mind recollected a host of thoughts and most of them reflected violent images you would find on Discovery Channel special based on lions hunting. On one hand, the jester wanted to cross the bridge but what he really felt like doing was popping the dark Detective's head off like the top cap of a cherry soda. Asking the question 'How dare he show up?' was too small to encompass to surge of emotion that waged through his mind. If feelings could be captured in a painting, then Edward Munch would fail. Joker's brain reflected that of Bosch's Garden of the Earthly Delights.

The 'sanity' that he had possession of only days ago was as extinct as the Pterodactyl and was as fresh as two day old rancid meat. This was a new breed of animal and the man standing across from him collected that. Joker's body language was like that of a lion that had just caught which zebra they would catch and zeroed in on it. It was obvious that the orderlies running from the asylum were not part of the Harlequin of Hate's menu.

The clown could sense the familiarity. The sight of the Dark Knight feet away from him brought back a whole host of memories, some pleasant, some not. Some had the welcoming presence of a fly on a ham sandwich at a picnic. He could still smell the baked pasta that they shared after that special night. He could still feel warm breaths on his cheek and neck. He could still hear that soft, human voice in his ear after intimate contact. He could remember large hands running across his back. It made the clown shudder with ecstasy. It was like showing a picture of a raspberry cheesecake to a bulimic.

The pleasant thoughts were drowned out when he recalled the icy look in the cave before his transfer. He remembered the treatment at the asylum he had received as its royal guest. He remembered being pushed aside like a dirty diaper, no longer having value and having fulfilled its purpose. It was an empty void, useless, old and forgotten.

On one hand, he wanted to claw those beady white eyes out and on the other, he desperately wanted to run across and into the Batman's arms…..with a knife to his back.

The fact that he had the damn nerve to show his face around these parts were embarrassing, at worst, sheer insult. The clown fantasized about tearing the Bat to pieces like a hyena on a baby gazelle. The only thing standing between him and his enemy was stamina and timing. This was an old dance. Well, it was a new dance with an old spin.

"So, you got my message? I hope it wasn't too messy. I left my knives and guns at home." The clown said bitterly with a tinge of sarcasm.

"Joker, put the weapon down…" The Dark Knight said warningly. The clown held a crowbar in his hand. It was more than likely left behind by some orderly or technician who had to fix the broken electricity from the first bombing about a month back, before all this started.

"Please, if you think I am going to listen to your little request then you are no different than the morons who still think Elvis is still alive!" Joker hissed. The same words, the same dance, the same routine. If there was anything that boiled the clown's broccoli, it was boredom and repetition. It was a one trick pony. Revisiting the same routine was like going back to old memories that he did not want to visit. It was like broken pony on the merry go round that was past its prime.

"Joker…." Batman began as he advanced slowly. This was a delicate procedure akin to that of studying a virus on a Petri dish. He had to rely on precise body language, the right words, and the right tone. It was like building a house of cards, one wrong move and it would fall down.

"Don't take that tone with me, Batman!" Joker spat. "If there is anything I hate, it is repeat performances! You of all people should know that. Did we miss our daily dose of Ginkgo Loba?" The Joker let out a disappointed clicking of the tongue.

"Jack!" Bruce shouted out loud. He had hoped that the name would breach the clown's human sensibilities. It was just a name but to the Dark Knight, and hopefully the clown, it was a badge. It was a tag, a connection. It was a built in human mechanism that the detective had hoped would cater to the clown's emotional centers. He had hoped it would cut across the psychosis which was as thick as brushfire and finally reach the delicate nucleus he knew existed but had been drowned out due to meddling and other factors. Now was not the time to take apart the small details. Now, it was about trying to establish that connection once again. It was not about rekindling that fire that they once had, it was about getting to that intimate level.

The word was like a knife across his belly and then some. The clown's brain registered the name in his mind. A whole host of links and ideas popped into his brain as quickly as firecrackers on the Fourth of July. Jeannie. Ace Chemical Factory. Accident. Broken heart. Tragedy. Baby.

Tragedy. What the Hell is that? Who has time for that? Life is not about tragedy. Life is too short to be an angst filled pot of piss and black bile. It is about indulging into your wildest escapes. Bask. Savor. It's about doing what those Dove commercials do. Why be an old fuddy duddy when you can let your inner kid out? The id is the kid. Discipline is like a two foot long rope tied around the neck.

A tragedy is forgetting a joke in the middle of a stand up routine.

A tragedy is misplacing the decimal in a calculus equation.

A tragedy is a building on fire.

No wait, that's comedy. The clown burst up laughing.

The Batman had just witnessed the confirmation of Joker's relapse.

"Jack? Jack is not home right now. Please leave a message. BEEP!" Joker shot back.

This was like herding cats.

It was dead tone. It was like connecting a switch to a dead outlet.

"Joker! Stop! You're only doing this to get my attention. Here I am!"

The clown scoffed.

"I am not doing this to get your attention, Bats!" The words stung. Before, they were meaningless, empty vessels. Now, it was just a reminder of what had been undone. "I am doing this because I am stark raving mad! Get it?!" The clown let out a titter of giggles.

"Joker! That was not me who left you at Arkham!" You might as well get to the bottom of this instead of wasting time playing these stupid mind games. Joker would not move until he precisely got what he wanted. Even if he was a vicious psychopath, he was very detailed and specific about what he wanted. Batman had just moved his Rook and he was waiting for the clown to move his Knight.

"Right, and I am Marie Antoinette. 'Let them eat Bat'." Joker declared before indulging in another fit of giggles. "You know they eat Bats in arts of Indonesia, right? If you lived there, Bats, would you be considered a cannibal?"

Waste of time, waste of time, Batman said to himself.

"Joker, I did not leave you at the Asylum." Batman stressed the syllables, hoping and praying that the clown would hear his desperate requests. Like him, he was stubborn and focused in his own way. He was creative but frustratingly fixed. He had to have that one particular bait so as to reel him in.

"Well, it was not Hulk Hogan either!" The Joker spat back. His face had contorted into one of seriousness. This was when he was at his most deadly. His jabs were like an annoying sneeze that would not stop.

The clown recalled that one moment. The voice, the movements were unmistakable. The voice was exact. Who was he fooling? Who did he think he was, the Great Illusionist? That was like denying that Charlie Chaplin or Red Skelton never existed. What a joke indeed. Bending the truth and omitting a few facts was one thing but this was denying the fact that the Earth was round and even for someone as unstable as the clown, that was an insult.

"Joker, that was not me who left you at the Asylum! That was Nightwing, dressed up as me!"

You might as well be singing Les Marseilles and dancing naked in the rain because the Joker was having one of it. His mind did not want to process the kernel of truth. It was as convoluted and messy like a lung belonging to a chain smoker with twenty years under the belt. For someone who preferred logic that was akin to that of a freeway, this grain of fact was a monkey wrench being tossed into the machine. It was a lie, a lie like Marie Antoinette caring for the starving people of France when in fact she preferred playing cards in the salon. It was a fib like the Pied Piper and the rat children. It was a fairy tale that needed to be put back on the shelf.

"Now, Bats, you can do better than that. How about you tell me to put the weapon down and you sweet talk me like you did before? It turns me on…" The clown cooed. He held himself like he was shivering in the cold. The Dark Knight let out a disgusted noise.

"Joker! For the last time, that was not me!! That was Nightwing DRESSED UP as me," The detective said and stressed the operative words in an attempt to finally reset the clown's mindset. It proved to be futile.

To the Joker, you might as well be talking about the politics of Indo China to some Natives in the heart of Africa.

"_Mierde!_ There you go again trying to pull that bull caca on me! You're talking to someone who let out Arkham escapees have access to weapons Bats! You're looking at the same clown that made you and your brats run all over the city for a bunch of crumb crunchers after that nasty old quake!" The clown spat back. "How in the Hell do you expect me to believe that?!?"

To the Joker, that explanation was too easy and too convenient. He expected a more convoluted answer, not a simple explanation. It was unlike the Bats. This did not fit his modus operandi. By saying that someone else did it, he was allaying the problem onto someone else. It was unlike him, unless….

"Take off the cowl so that we can see that pretty little face, Bats, if that if you ARE the real thing…" The clown said gingerly.

The jester was recalling a moment of sheer intimacy and bliss. It was a moment of pure perfection. It was fleeting but very deep, as he remembered. Now, it was just a memory. It was long gone, like smoke.

Even if there was no one else around, the Batman was not about to acquiesce to the clown's wishes. It was not just the fear of a peeper possibly getting a picture that bothered him. It was that he needed to control the situation. If he listened to the clown's demands, then he would be giving in. The dance was never like this. It never went this way. It would mean that clown had one. He needed to control the situation.

"Joker, listen to me!" Batman said before a boulder fell close to him.

"Oh stop being such a wet blanket, Batman!" Joker said before he swung his arm back and hit a pipe with his crowbar. The pipe burst and expelled a white wave of water and it shot into Batman's direction. The Dark Knight shielded himself with his cape but the force proved to be too strong which made the Knight fall back a little and slip a bit.

"Awww, you're all wet, Batman!" Joker said before he blew a kiss and ran.

The clown headed into the main door way, or what was left of it. At this point and time, a lot of the western end of the building had been destroyed and a fire was rising quickly. Batman heard the clown's cackles tempted him to follow the clown inside. He was slippery like an Anaconda in the Amazon but he had to catch him. He had finally figured out the last piece of the puzzle but the clown was having none of it. He was as stubborn as a mule. He was dangerous but he had garnered enough experience to subdue him. The police and SWAT team were not trained enough for the Joker's unpredictable penchant for magic tricks and deadly weapons. When the Joker attacked, it was like watching a deadly magician work his dark charms. No one could guess if his next move save for the fact that it would end in one life cut short in some or another. Joker has the exoticism and ferocity of a Burmese python and only he was trained and equipped for the clown's bag of tricks.

At this point, he did not care of Gordon had called for back-up. This was only between him and the Joker. It was an intensely personal fight that had to be tamed.

Batman had finally made it to a dark corridor of Arkham that had not yet been affected by the fire and explosion. The Joker had been here because of the foot prints created and left behind by the mud. The water by the cracks had sprinkles on the side. Someone had just stepped in this area. He did not want to debate whether the clown was just getting mess and lazy or what.

It was eerily silent, the way it should be. It meant he was getting close. It was as if the whole place was holding its breath.

"Yoohoo!" A falsetto pierced through from the balcony to his left. The clown leaned over from his waist line and waved at the Batman.

"Over here slow poke!" Joker hooted. He ran into another corner. The detective reached over and pulled with a grapple and hoisted himself up to the clown's level. He was passing through the section the workers called the menagerie. These were their old cells. They were now dilapidated beyond repair. It was like seeing the half eaten bones of a buffalo at a Komodo Dragon buffet. It was a tragic and pathetic sight.

"I visited an old friend today. I can't believe Johnny boy was nailing that!" Joker said in a fit of giggles. The topic was as appropriate as talking about Robert E. Lee at an NAACP convention. "She had a lovely little body but a little too much junk in the trunk. At least Harley has a cute little tush!" Joker tittered.

Batman's stomach tightened. The offensive references to the women Joker had just violated was sickening. To him, they were no more than bits of toilet paper.

"I had to let her go because she was such a pebble in my shoe." The clown said nonchalantly. Batman could not see him but he knew the clown was close. "I had to trim the fat, Batman. I was only helping you and this is the thanks I get?" The clown said sweetly. It was almost hard to believe that only a few days ago, the clown was on his knees and under his thumb. Now, he was as defiant as a rowdy teenager.

"You were not helping. You are just overreacting to a moment that you did not understand!" Batman shot back into the darkness. There was a moment of silence before the clown finally spoke up. The Joker studied the words. They were underestimating his performance. He had always been in control and again, the detective was putting him down, again. To the egotistical clown, those were fighting words. They were undercutting his finesse.

"Overreacting?! That miserable whore needed to be put in her place….permanently." Joker cooed softly.

Batman stood back. No matter how he worded it, he knew that the Joker was right. She was in cahoots with the wrong party but that did not mean that he had a right to cut her life short. It was collateral damage that she had died. To Bruce, there was no tragedy save for the one that happened when he was ten. Anyone in Joker's way was collateral damage, spilt milk. He was the crux of it all and only he could contain him. Only he could put out the fire that raged in the clown's soul.

Looking back, the clown never made a declaration to stop killing. Why would he? The fact that he went a few days without indulging was a feat, an admirable but fleeting one. Bruce's mind was at a crossroads. This was the same person whom he shared intimate contact with and now he had the aura of AIDS attacking a city. He did not want to think it but this was the same person whom he shared his deepest, darkest secrets with and they were at odds again. It would have been delusional to think that it was a permanent change. For the Joker to stop killing would have been like asking him to stop breathing. It was like second nature. It was like asking a predator to stop hunting. He could still feel the clown's soft white skin underneath his bare hands. Now, he could see that the jester from Hell no longer resembled the way he remembered. He was sweaty, dirty, ratty and emaciated.

"You said you were going to get the Riddler but you never did. You said you were going to deal with what I had and you failed miserably." Joker said in a low tone. "Boy, for somebody with a low threshold for patience I like to think I did a really good job…."

Batman let out a groan.

"Joker, I said I was going to do it as best as I could. I failed and I am sorry." Bruce caught himself momentarily. He was apologizing to his worst enemy, ex lover, best friend. He did not know who he was dealing with anymore. It was better than arousing the clown's anger. He really wanted to get at 'that' level.

"A little too late don't you think? You think an apology will undo what I went through? You think I'm sorry will bring back the usher from the gala? Miss Romero? Your kitty cat?" Joker sneered. He could tell that it struck a chord within the Bat. His face contortions were subtle but they were there.

"Leave her out of this." Batman said warningly. It was private territory but he knew that for the Joker, it was like tasting the forbidden fruit.

"Why? She's caught in the middle too, isn't she? Isn't she helping you out? Filthy gutter tramp!" Joker hissed.

"Don't call her that!"

"Then what do you call someone who sells their body while wearing a cat costume? Certainly not a car mechanic, Batman…." Joker said in a snide manner. He wanted to get under the Dark Knight's skin. Joker saw Catwoman as competition plain and simple. She was a miserable whore who stuck her nose where it did not belong. She had a chance to taste the forbidden fruit but she let it go because she was too independent and she wanted it when Joker was touching it.

"Joker….," the detective said warningly. He could smell the smoke coming closer.

"Bruuuuuuuuuuuuuuuce……" The Jester said darkly. Again with the sarcasm, he thought.

Out of the corner he could see the clown appear. In the light and shadow of the fire that blazed overhead, the clown looked like a Hellish figure from children's nightmares. He was a demonic force. He was no longer the human that he cared for. This was a different person. He was a whole new being. The mess on his face was smudged with dirt and sweat. He looked like a Ghostly being from Hell.

Joker was the first to deliver a defensive hit. He tossed his trademark cards at the Dark Knight. He avoided the deadly weapons with skilled tosses of his signature batarangs. He was then quickly greeted by the clown's deadly gas. The Batman covered his nose. He heard some footsteps and caught a silhouette. The clown was headed towards the Southern region. Both enemies raced.

The Batman momentarily lost direction. The clown could have been anywhere. This was his spider web and for a moment, he was trapped. Then, he noted some footsteps. They had the presence of gun shots which grappled with his stomach for a nanosecond or two.

The Dark Knight stood his ground without being defensive. The last thing he wanted to do was give the clown a reason to attack. The jester came close and closer until he was within inches of the other man. He could smell the rubber and sweat from the other figure. Batman could smell the grime as well as a tinge of perfume from the other man. The clown suppressed the feelings of lust that aroused him by delivering a blow to the other man's jaw.

"This is for lying to me!" He screeched. The Dark Knight leaned back but did not fall backwards.

"This is for toying with my emotions!" The clown yelled as he hit the Batman, this time sending him to the ground. He landed on top of him. Batman grabbed onto the clown's shoulders and wrestled with him.

At this point and time, the clown really wanted to put a gun into his mouth and shoot mercilessly. He fantasized about blowing his brains out. He pictured the blood spurting out like a fountain. He could not bring himself to do it for that would be like intentionally destroying a favorite toy and toys were a favorite especially when they did not break. Still, there was a small kernel of him that held back his id. The part of him called Jack grabbed at his psyche and lassoed his attention. At the same time, his superego wanted nothing more than to squeeze the life out of the man sitting below him. Joker pulled out his gun and aimed it at the Batman's head. This was for all the Hell he went through at his recent stay at Arkham. Nothing could ever make up for what had transpired those three Hellish days.

"Any last words, Bats? I'll make sure kitty cat gets the memo…" the clown said in a throat purr.

With quicksilver speed, the Batman grabbed at the clown's dainty wrist but not before punching him in the jaw. The clown landed on his back and lost control of the gun which slid away. Batman was now pinning him down, looking down at him like a grotesque gargoyle. He finally had the clown under his spell but he was not yet finished.

"Joker, stop! Listen to me! I did not leave you here, damn it! Believe me! I have no reason to lie about something like that!" Batman protested. Joker spat in his face.

"If you don't believe my words, then maybe this will convince you." He leaned down and kissed the clown on the cheek.

The sensation sent the clown into a nirvana he had not felt in quite awhile. The last time he felt this way was when he fried and barbecued the Scarecrow's lawyer but that was a guilty pleasure, like cheesecake. This was on a whole different plane. This felt like flying. The Joker looked up at the other man. His sea green eyes no longer reflected the bitterness and pride but it was not enough. Bruce leaned down once again and pressed his lips onto the clown's.

The Joker could feel an electric current throughout his body. His muscles which were once tensed with anger now withered away as he melted into the kiss. They quickly parted but Joker looked up. The clown looked up at the other man, breathing rather heavily.

"Bats…?" The harlequin mewed. His disposition had changed from one of dark sarcasm to tenderness and all with one touch. It was like magic. Words were not needed to communicate what the Bat wanted to say. It had to be done. Words were only fleeting. It was like air. It could be gone in a flash. A private exchange like that was far more engaging, personal and most of all memorable. It was tangible and two parties were witness. The Joker's body melted at the touch as did Bruce's. He had trained his body, controlled it. It was all undone by the man beneath him.

"Joker. I think I know who is responsible for all this. It was so obvious and yet I ignored it…."

At that moment, the sound of slow clapping broke their concentration. Both enemies looked at the direction of the clapping. A robed figure stepped forward. It wore green. The face was unmistakable. Joker winced. The Dark Knight let out a defeated sigh.

"Well played, Detective, well played. I give much kudos to your perfection of the craft but it seems as though I have won this challenge." The bearded man stepped forward.

The Demon let out a gentle laugh at the expense of the two enemies in their compromising position.

"I should have known. Your daughter was here." The Batman snapped.

"Ubu, take them away!" Ras al Ghul ordered. "Do not roughen them up. I want this evening's events to be perfect."

* * *

_I have been waiting to write this moment since the middle of 2007. I hope I haven't bored you. Now, things will come together. I hope you liked it. I was inspired by Batman #400. It has an introduction by Stephen King. It came out around 1986. I highly recommend that story. I wanted to do something like that and so I incorporated it into my story. To all the readers, you have been great even if you didn't show it. _


	48. The Battle At Arkham 2:The Eleventh Hour

Title: One More Chance

Genre: Psychological, noir, action adventure, suspense, romance

Synopsis: The eleventh hour revelations. The final curtain falls on the stage.

Archive:Yes

Feedback: Much appreciated

Era/setting: Post crisis 1985. There are some OYL elements. Basically, I'm taking parts from continuity that I liked but Jason Todd is still dead to me.

Disclaimer: I do not own, please do not sue.

Author's note: This written as a psychological tale of the human condition. I noticed a lot of people are begging me for Joker to live. Well, guys, you are about to find out your answer.

* * *

Bruce hung his head low in shame. His breathing was as measured and calculated as his heart rate. He was an automaton on the outside and yet within, his mind raced with images and clues he had overlooked because of distraction or some other silly excuse. He was recalling that night when he had a 'discussion' with himself. Right now, he felt as if he was on one of those devices that were popular during Puritanical times where people stuck their heads and faces. He might as well have been tarred and feathered. No, this was not humiliating public shame that the morning gossip reports ate up like honey. This shame was private and utterly incalculable. This was the punishment of the soul. His mental and emotional bonds felt as if they were stuck in quicksand all because he overlooked some details or did not pay attention to some. Time was also a factor but at the same time, he felt that he had abused that privilege. Instead of going to dinner and relaxing as his confidant Lucius Fox had suggested, he dawdled and messed up once again and he was paying for it. Now, he was culminating and the fruits of his failures were about to be weighed in front of him like a soul having his heart measured under the god Anubis after they departed. Bruce's lonely feeling overwhelmed him so much that he had to remove the cowl from his face to allow himself some 'breathing' room.

He saw that it was all calculated but he had slowed down due to some indiscretions, but were they really called secrets if he knew exactly what they were? He was not removed from what happened. He was there and let it happen. He let the Joker distract him and now he was in the face of danger. It was like being spit on the face. His detective skills were a joke. His mental wall was nothing more than sticks. His secrets were now being exploited all because he refused his arch enemies' daughter's hand once again. Saul GH Laur was an anagram for the Demon's Head. That's what the Riddler was talking about that night at the Pandora's Box when he showed him the mountain of bodies. Collected like trophies, it was an omen, looking back. Although the Riddler was never known to be a violent criminal, he boasted about the dead bodies like one would have won the lottery. Still, it was out of character for him to be so open about such a crime. Riddler was more of a mental figure. His plans involved conundrums and Chinese boxes. That is not to say he was any less a dangerous criminal. If anything, Riddler had time and he exploited that successfully. The question now was why would Riddler get involved over something like this? Money was never really a part of his modus operandi and if it was, it was set it on fire. To him, those were earthly material possessions. A sign of status that was as ephemeral as a shooting star. One could have all the money in the world but squander it stupidly. That was his mindset.

Batman's answers were about to be answered when he saw a door to his left open. He had expected to see someone else but was more or less disappointed when the desired result did not come to fruition. A tall, heavy set man with a gold earring came inside.

It was Ras' second hand man, Ubu.

"Ubu," The Dark Knight said as a greeting. The other man leaned down to help him up but it was not done in a brotherly fashion. It was more of a push. The familiarity between the two was as foreign as the swamps were to city people.

"The Master will see you shortly, get up, Detective," the other man said with a strong accent. He called him that even with his mask on. Perhaps it was done to create the barrier. He was no longer Bruce Wayne, Talia's significant other. He was Batman, Ras al Ghul's pebble in the shoe.

"Ubu, wait. Explain this all to me," Bruce said in an almost desperate manner. He had hoped it would appeal to the other man's emotional centers but no dice. Ubu may have been a brute but underneath that tough exterior which was as thick as elephant skin there was a man who cared for Talia like an uncle.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Wayne, that is declassified. Master will show you," the Hench man replied. He said Mr. Wayne with an air of indifference. He might as well have been a stranger. If that was indeed true, wouldn't he have tried to rough him up a little?

* * *

A bowl of dirty water and a small loaf of bread were tossed underneath the door. He would have preferred protein as Bruce could feel his brain rot. He did not feel as sharp and tried to muster as much concentration and alertness to his surroundings. He felt he was trapped in a cocoon. He had been stripped of his most essential weaponry. He might as well have been naked. The only thing on him was his suit but what good was it without the belt? That was like removing the fangs and declawing a predator. It was like a hunter being robbed of his spear. He felt emasculated.

Bruce kicked himself for missing the biggest clue: Talia's presence. She said that her father was not involved. The two had been estranged for quite some time but the old cliché' of the apple and the tree rang in his mind. Bruce was remembering when she broke into his study and stole some viable material and information when Ras created the language scrambler. She may have been his one time lover and wife even but she was still the Demon's daughter and he comes first. She was only a pawn for his thirst for megalomania but Talia was smart. She was as frustrating as one of the Riddler's plans. She was a conundrum all to herself.

At that point, Bruce heard the door open once again. It felt like hours but in actuality, it was no more than twenty minutes when he had the last encounter with a human being. Bruce put on the cowl over his head to at least give him some protection even if he was stripped of his weapons. Bruce suppressed the idea. What good was a puny cowl compared to a batarang? He was craving one in his hand now. His hand made a gesture but all he felt was air. If he could not be Batman with the extra materials, he might as well be Batman in his mind.

The guest of honor had arrived. The hair was unmistakable. The walk was familiar. The figure carried himself like a specter. The black figure has dissolved into one donning green robes. The bearded was only the confirmation. Ras al Ghul had returned.

"Detective, your presence is heartwarming. I welcome you back." The Demon's Head said with an air of pride. Although his face was as stoic as a statue, Batman caught the subtle smile that graced the seven hundred year old man's face.

"Your greeting only hides your true façade, Ras. All those baths may have decreased the wrinkles on your face, but they do not wash away the evil that resides in your soul." Batman spat back.

At this point, the Demon's Head smiled.

"Still as feisty as ever, I am delighted to see. Your lively spirited energy is a quality I have long admired in you, Detective. It was something I had wished you could have passed on with my daughter."

Batman let out a mental sigh. There he was again complaining about how he had missed an opportunity to make peace with a renowned terrorist. You might as well be going to bed with Pol Pot if you were going to make the kind of deal. Talia was a beautiful woman and as precious as a jewel but she was light weight compared to her father's issues at hand.

"For the last time, Ras, I am not interested in what you have to offer." Batman spat back. The Demon only smiled.

"You are letting your judgment cloud your reasoning. I am not offering that you gas an orphanage, Detective. Did I ever make such a suggestion?" The Demon pressed on.

"Whatever it is, I am not interested," The Dark Knight shot back.

"You should be grateful that I have not yet ordered my men to destroy you, Detective. One order and I would have your head skewered just like Emperor Caligula did in Roman times. One order, Detective, that is all that it takes. Remember that when you spit in my direction when I offer you another opportunity. My generosity speaks for itself. You have shamed my daughter, myself and you when you refused to join the League of Assassins. Thankfully, my determination has proven to be my best strength, kind of like you, Detective. We are more alike than you might want to think."

He wanted to dismiss Ras' words as nothing more than Joker's mindless dribbles from before but they carried a huge weight of truth to them. The truth being spoken out of the mouth of someone like Ras was like being offered some fine wine but being slapped in the face at the same time. They were NOT the same. Bruce had wealth, granted, he did not have the fountain of youth but there was no price for his soul. There could never be.

"You seem a little more agitated, Detective. Even your skills were rudimentary. It is showing. Is there something amiss?"

Great. Now, he was rubbing salt into the wound.

"I will not be at peace until you explain everything, Ras. Right now, I am asking you, what is going on? Why did you get involved and what do people like Crane, Nygma, Tetch, Isley and Quinn have to do with it?" Batman shot back.

He put the cards on the table. "Why this web, Ras and what did the Joker do that made you create this mess?"

The Demon put his hands on the other man's shoulders. It was insulting because here he was asking for help and the worst person in the world was the only one who had the answers. Usually, he relied on Oracle for that but she was not here.

No one was here.

They were all probably stuck in the same tar pit except Bruce was buried neck deep and time was running out. He had wished that he had access to his artillery for one minute. At least he could then give Oracle some coordinates.

"I will not tell you, Detective. I believe you already know the answer but for some reason or another, you refuse to come forward. It is as if you are ashamed and have something to hide."

Bruce suppressed the twinge. It was no different than a small itch.

"You are a man of many secrets and I can respect that." The Demon said finally but it was not enough. "I will not tell you of my plans, Dear Detective. I should figure that it is best that I SHOW you instead."

Ras was a man full of surprises in contrast. At that point, more of Ras al Ghul's men entered the small quarters. Ubu applied a purple piece of cloth to his eyes.

"In due time, detective, in due time," Ras al Ghul smiled.

* * *

It was a few seconds after that when he heard another voice and saw another figure. The figure was smaller. It was a woman, no doubt, with long hair down to her waist.

It was Talia, the love of his life, or at least she was until she proved that she was just as venomous as her father.

"Talia," the Batman began. Talia shushed him.

"Hello, beloved."

"Talia, please help." Batman began. His voice was so desperately lonely. She had forgotten why she had fallen in love in the first place.

"Beloved. It was my father's orders. I'm so sorry."

"But why did you keep it from me?" Bruce said in a tender voice and held her hand. The sensation was electrifying. She could feel her blood bubble up and her legs weaken. This was no longer the alpha male that made her body quiver. This was a man who was desperate for her touch, for her contact. He wiped her hair from her pretty face. Her dark brown eyes were cat-like and her heart shaped mouth was like a ripe plum begging to be touched.

"So that you and your friends would not get hurt, but like always, you had to get involved." Talia said darkly as she began to roll up some rope.

"Talia, I am not angry with you. That is directed at your father. What I do not understand is how you can be such an intelligent beautiful woman and do such things."

"Blood is thicker than water," Talia stated simply. The response was practically robotic.

"You knew I was going to get involved. I'm not stupid." Batman replied sharply.

Talia let out a sigh. She had been caught and now it was time to come clean.

"I was not supposed to tell anyone this but it was all planned from the very beginning."

At least he could now see the gears moving.

"Plan what, Talia? Please tell me." Bruce begged.

"Do not beg, it makes you look desperate." Talia said in a poisonous tone.

He looked like a little boy begging for a cookie. It was an annoying trait. There was no balance. Men were always about extremes. It was rather silly. That was one reason why she left Bane. The man had no discipline. He was all brute and no substance. The Batman, her beloved, was acting like that now. He was like a little boy tugging at his mother's dress.

"Father, wanted to show you something….." Talia trailed off.

"What is it, Talia?" Bruce said in a paternal fashion. He had not used that tone on someone that angered him in a long time.

"To prove that you were still worthy of me," Talia stated sharply.

"Talia you are a beautiful woman worth more than the riches of the Orient but you know my stance on your father's belief system." Bruce said diplomatically.

"It's not just that, Batman." She said Batman with a tone of disgust.

"Talia, you have to prove to me that I can trust you." Bruce said softly, once again touching Talia's hair. It was soft like silk but thick as rope.

The Daughter of the Demon looked up at the other man. She rested her hand on his cheek. It was the only human connection he had made all evening. She then kissed him.

"I gave your Catwoman a cure. It was something that the doctors could not offer."

"Why, did you do that, Talia?" Bruce asked. If anything, Selina was her biggest rival.

"Because it broke my heart to see her suffering the way she did. She is skilled like you. She is very passionate, and very beautiful. I know you care about her deeply." Talia said simply.

"I still do not understand." Batman said in a calm tone.

"I did it because you are going to need all the help you can get, Beloved." Talia said prophetically.

* * *

Batman could feel the chill in the air. He knew that wherever he was, the place was bigger. It was some sort of arena. He could feel the open air grace his back which was bare. He had been stripped of his cape. He had felt as if a horn had been sheared to a laughable size. He could feel some dirt underneath his boot. Great. The place had the semblance of a Roman feast and he was the Gladiator.

A snap of fingers sounded off and Batman could now feel the binds around his eyes loosen and finally, vision. He searched the periphery. It was a coliseum like atmosphere and in front of him, Ras sat proudly like an Emperor about to enjoy the Roman circus.

"It is Saturday. Fine day for entertainment, don't you think, Detective?" The Demon replied darkly.

It was Saturday. The last time he saw the Joker was Thursday night. The days became a blur. From the moment he encountered the clown at the hospital to this, it had felt like an eternity when it actuality, it was no more than three weeks at most. He had had a spiritual cleansing that a Lazarus pit could not offer.

"Not hardly," the Batman shot back.

"Then maybe you should take my offer into more serious consideration, Detective."

The Demon clapped and on command, the whole place lit up. It no longer was an empty arena. In fact, there were a few guests there to witness the spectacle. He saw some familiar faces.

Scarecrow, Riddler The Mad Hatter, Croc, Ivy, a few inmates he had seen at the Asylum and some of Ras' henchmen sat around. Batman wished that the lights had never turned on or that none of this ever materialized. He was now under the eyes of his enemies.

"What's all this about?" The question was a redundant one but he needed to let something out. There was no one or nothing he could hit. He had to scratch that itch.

"This is the culmination of your efforts, detective. The fruits of your labors right before your eyes. You were close but like the tiger on the first hunt, you let go a little too quickly and you let the deer get away. Your skills, we have noticed, need some polishing."

A murmur of low laughter reverberated across the hall. It was like laughter from Hell. Worst of all, they were laughing at him. Now, Joker's laughter from long ago was peanuts compared to what he had just heard. He let his composure speak for itself. Do not let them get to you.

"That silence is as loud as a fine chime on a winter morning," Ras al Ghul stated proudly. Poison Ivy had a grin across her face as she sat proudly to his side looking like a proud queen. She was donning a green dress with some jewelry. They were turquoise stones.

"It was a fine game," she declared. Her peers offered their drinks as a toast.

Game? Great. It was a big labyrinth and now he was the Minotaur.

"Let's not count our chickens before they hatch Miss Isley. There are still a few more details to be worked out with our guest."

"Shut up, Ras." Batman stated sourly. Too much time wasted. He needed to shut up and to get on with it.

The Demon laughed and it was the most unholy thing he had ever heard.

"Ever the spirited one, Detective, no?" The Demon stated proudly. "It is a trait I cherished about you."

"He is quite the stubborn one, isn't he?" Crane said snidely to the Riddler.

"Always chasing the Magic Dragon or the White Rabbit," the Mad Hatter replied. The empty jabs making HIM look like the delusional one were just shallow shaming tactics. They were just stupid meaningless words. They were distractions meant to get at his insecurities.

"Speaking of white, we shall get to that soon, but first, a warm up." Ras al Ghul finally stated.

A warm up? This was not a gym track. This was a matter of life and death. It was about time. He did not need any more hurdles in the road!

Ras al Ghul clapped his hands three times before a door to Batman's left opened slowly. He half expected to see a wild beast come out but it was only Ubu. He was carrying some sort of club. There was nothing for Bruce.

"This is just a series of tests," he said nonchalantly like a doctor about to apply a very painful shot and some radiation to boot.

"What's all this for?" Batman asked. He gave a dirty look to Ubu.

"To see if you still have that gift. It has been quite some time since we last encountered, Detective. I'm offering you one more chance to marry my daughter and I desire to see if you still are top pedigree to do so. If it offers any solace, my heart is with you."

Sure it is, you greedy old reptile.

Without command, Ubu took the first jab and only hit air. The Dark Knight was swift like a fox but without his armor, he was only a mere housecat to the larger man. The club was a fitting noose around his neck. The Batman went behind the other man, and leapt onto his back. He pressed his fingers into Ubu's eye sockets. The soft jelly like substance under his gloved finger was his target and Ubu's yell was a triumphant move for the Dark Knight who leapt off of the other man. Ubu charged like a rhinoceros at Batman's direction. The Dark Knight ran for a bit before running up a wall and jumping into the air, making the other man miss him by seconds. He landed behind Ubu. The display was an offensive one and only served to make the other man's stress levels rise.

The two men sized each other up. Ubu had the advantage because he was taller and had the training of the Assassins in his favor. He saw himself as an Escalade and the other was a Mazda. Batman had the advantage because he was smaller and therefore quicker. He also had the training of more than twenty types of martial arts. He could use that advantage to trick the other man.

The poised manner in which Batman's own adversaries carried them was equally eerie. Even if they were guilty of the most atrocious of crimes, they made regular sports freaks look like savages. Their graceful and calm demeanor did not detract from the crimes that they were guilty of. They were still monsters underneath the million dollar suits and chiffon dress. This was Arkham's Hellfire Club and they were about to be entertained.

Batman and Ubu glared at one another, trying to predict the other's next move. They scrutinized one another's footsteps and arm movements. They treated small movements like revelations. Ubu led the first swipe. The Batman ducked and kicked the other man in the stomach. It was no different than a pat on the shoulder.

Ubu was about to deliver the blow until he felt a sharp pain reach down his back and he let out the most blood curdling cry anyone ever heard. It sounded like a bull after being wrestled to the ground. He fell onto his knees.

He had an arrow attached to his back. It looked like the Excalibur on a fleshy stone.

Ras and the rest of them looked at the source of the direction. They only saw a Hench man wave and fall back quickly. He waved his arms as an apology.

"Idiot!" Ras al Ghul spat out. "Gozer, check the perimeters and see that Akim is okay. Then afterwards, when you tend to his wounds, kill him. I will not stand for this insubordination."

Ras leaned back into his chair.

"Well, we had to cut down one part of the evening's entertainment short. We might as well commence with the next tribute. This one, Detective is especially for you." The Demon said darkly.

Batman turned his head to his right. Another stone door was being moved.

What was on the other side was a very pathetic sight.

The Joker appeared, shackled. He was donning nothing more than a pathetic pair of what used to be his purple slacks. He was not wearing a shirt. His starving figure was a grotesque sight.

"Charming creature, isn't he?" The Demon spat out. If he could, Batman would have punched the Demon in the jaw. True, this was not Mother Theresa but the words were nonetheless disgusting.

"When I said that there was a fly in my soup, I did not mean that you had to give me a bath. What's all this?" Joker said in a shrewd manner.

"Joker, what's..?" He noted the clown's discoloration and eyes.

He was under some sort of drug, albeit it was not a strong dosage but it was noticeable.

"He took the legs of your second hand command and killed another. Such a tragedy, Batman but now the story has to end." Ras al Ghul ordered. Batman turned back at him. For a well spoken man, what he had just heard was just pure gibberish.

"Excuse me?" Batman queried. The rest of the cowardly lot laughed.

"The story started when you put on the cowl. Now, you must end it."

"I do not kill, Ras. I thought you knew that." Batman said warningly.

"Hey, is this a party…?" The clown said in a hiccup.

"He is drugged. He won't feel a thing. If you won't kill him, the rest of us will happily do it for you."

That was the crux of it all. He did not want Batman to kill him. That was a violation of his sacred code. The reason for all of this was to kill the Joker and to appeal to the Dark Knight's emotional senses but that had failed, the big question now was why did the rest of them have an investment in all of this?

"The professor wanted to stretch his creative muscles and he had the opportunity to meet a woman who made his ends meet. He played her like a fiddle and it worked beautifully. The one you know as Jervis Tetch was planted as a distraction at that one gala. The lovely Miss Isley offered to make a harvest while we all planned. Riddler was supposed to be the white dove." Ras al Ghul said proudly. The rest of the dark clown grinned amongst themselves proudly.

So, they were supposed to be distractions and yet they were involved in the whole scam as well. He got that part right. It was too coincidental that nothing big had happened and at the same time, he had a very good idea why.

"Things were going smoothly. We had a few roadblocks but we finally have the zenith within reach. It must taste like bitter fruit for you, Batman." The Demon said sharply.

"I know you all had something planned along but my big question is why?"

"The bigger question is Batman," Edward Nygma chimed in, "…is why won't you hurt the clown after all he has done to you? Are you sleeping with the enemy?"

Once again, the low murmur of laughter was like pus out of a wound.

"So, is this a tea party and I was not invited? I feel like Alice. Come on, Bats, where's your kitty cat? I want to put a carved smile on her face." The clown said darkly.

"Stop talking, you idiot, they want me to kill you!" Batman shouted.

It was if that moment, that was when the drugs started seeping out of the clown and he regained his composure. All of what had happened before had come to this. The clown glared at the others before him.

"Et tu, Pammie? Tetch? Eddie?" Joker said sweetly. They all disregarded him.

"Your pride was a nuisance to the rest of us. You had the sophistication of the Red Queen!" The Mad Hatter responded before sipping some chamomile.

"You hurt my friend, Harley, you sexist piece of filth!" Poison Ivy screeched. "You treat that poor woman like something you wipe between your pasty white ass, you filthy brute!"

If she had not been committed, then her actions would have been considered noble. It was hard to believe that some people think that she should be considered for a Nobel Peace Prize.

"You killed our lifeline, clown." The professor said darkly. "And that is on top of the other sins you have committed."

Joker scoffed.

"What gives you the right to judge me, Johnny boy? You have your dirty little secrets. I have mine!" Joker said with pride.

"Add to your reprehensible treatment of Miss Quinn, your behavior at the Asylum is like that of a fraternity brother who is incessantly drunk." The Scarecrow said angrily.

"Oh, so you all don't like me because I'm just being my natural self. Sheesh, and I thought that was because I told Eddie about that rumor about Alpo dog food being served at the Asylum!" Joker said in a giggly manner.

"I starved for days!"

"You idiot!"

"Whoopsie, me!" Joker said devilishly.

Batman placed his hands on his temples.

"My, my, it looks like one big dysfunctional family reunion. What say you, Batman?" Ras al Ghul said again. "It's either you or the clown."

The Joker placed his hands on his hips in a girlish manner but Batman could see something that the others could not.

"Bats…" the eyes bespoke emotion. Oh, how he missed those beautiful green eyes.

At that moment, another arrow came out of the darkness and hit another one of Ras al Ghul's henchmen. He let out a cry. It was obvious that it was no accident and that the hit was an intentional one.

"Fool! Show yourself!" Ras al Ghul demanded.

At that moment, a black hooded figure stood out. He pulled the hood back. It was a young boy. It was Tim and he had the barrel full of arrows.

"Robin!" Batman said to himself.

"Oh look, Bats! Diaper boy is here!" Joker said in a happy manner.

While they were all distracted by the appearance of the Boy Wonder, a gold rope made its way behind the professor and wrapped its way around his skinny neck. He fell of his chair. He held onto the rope which was as thick as metal but soft like angel hair. He looked at the source of the glowing material.

It was a woman and she had black hair. She also had more colorful attire that had red, gold and blue. It was Princess Diana, better known as Wonder Woman.

"You!" Poison Ivy yelled and pointed out.

Pandemonium broke out when more surprise guests entered the arena: Huntress came in from the west end. She shot an arrow from her apparatus and she nailed a few guards instantly. Dick and Tim jumped from the high latitude and leapt down to greet the captors. Selina grabbed Edward Nygma's neck and held her hands across his scrawny neck. She sunk her claws onto the flesh but not too tightly.

"You!" Selina snarled.

"Patience, dear Selina. I do not want our trip from Italy to be tainted like this!" Edward looked at her.

"You tainted it when you wore the costume!" Selina growled.

"Catwoman!" Batman yelled out.

"I'll handle this! You take care of the King. We have all the rooks and pieces!" Catwoman stated loudly.

That was the original plan. Everyone else deals with their respective captors while Batman went to for the main course. Upon looking, the Batman saw that Ras al Ghul had made his escape. Like a ghost, he vanished quickly. He abandoned ship. At that point, Talia along with a newly ailed Ubu appeared.

"Talia!" Batman yelled.

"I'll handle this, Beloved. You look for my father." Talia said assuredly.

Batman fled the scene.

"Take the clown into the Eastern wing." Talia ordered.

"But Miss Talia your fathers orders were that we should kill the clown." Ubu replied sourly.

"My father is not here. He abandoned us once again. I am in charge now, Ubu. Take the clown. Make sure he is not hurt. I'll be there shortly! Get more men!" Talia ordered. On that note, Ubu took the skinny clown and carried him out of sight, letting everyone else deal with the assorted mess.

* * *

"You deceitful witch!" Diana growled into Ivy's face. She grabbed a tuft of red hair and tossed the green skinned woman across the floor. Poison Ivy wiped her face and touched the ground. On that note, roots appeared and grabbed Diana by the foot.

"You really shouldn't mess in business that does not concern you, dear." Poison Ivy said darkly as she watched her children wrap themselves around the Amazonian Princess.

"I did it as a favor for a friend!" Diana shouted back.

"How noble," Poison Ivy said in mock care. Her eyes widened when she saw an arrowhead aim her way. It shot through the pod that held Diana. It let out a hideous shriek.

"No!" Poison Ivy screamed.

"Yes!" said the voice. It was the Huntress.

"More weeds in the garden. Where is my MiracleGro?" Poison Ivy said sourly. Her skin glistened like a dolphin's but her heart was pure stone.

"Right here, bitch!" Helena said as she aimed another one at the plant woman.

Poison Ivy created a strong current with her hand that sent Huntress flying. She quickly got up. Diana wrapped her rope around Ivy's neck and held her close.

"I've got her, Huntress! Go help the others!"

* * *

Robin and Tim cornered Crane and a few other henchmen. They were vastly outnumbered.

"Gentlemen, these are mere hours d'ourves." Crane said confidently.

"Robin?" Dick ordered.

"I'm on it. You take Crane and I got these clowns!" Tim said with an air of boastful confidence.

* * *

The Riddler had managed to wriggle out of Selina's grasp. He aimed at her with a deadly ball of gas. Selina coughed.

"At least it was not mustard gas. That would be a shame though. It would be another way of skinning a cat, now." Riddler said proudly. Someone tapped him on the shoulder. He turned around and saw a black glove aiming at his face. He fell down and was knocked out.

"Selina, how?"

"I got help from a friend." Catwoman stated simply.

"Who? Talia?" Batman demanded.

"No," said Selina.

Selina made a gesture with her fingers. They were pretending to tap on a computer.

Of course, it was Oracle. Dear sweet Oracle. She was invaluable as a source.

"You take up with the big guy. Oracle's got authorities on the way!" Selina replied.

"How did you know?"

"Oracle had extra eyes and ears. Huntress noted something suspicious around the area. Thank goodness for twitter!" Selina smiled. He kissed her.

"Not now, you big lug. Save the sugar for later!" Selina smiled sweetly.

On that note, the Batman left again. He could not find Ras throughout the corridors. He went to the direction where Talia and Ubu were headed with Joker.

* * *

The clown was left alone in a corridor. The only companions he had left were a bowl of dates and some water. He threw the cup across the room.

"Why does everyone else get to have the fun but me? Edward? That skinny little traitor, I will wring his neck. I will feed Crane his own intestines, I swear! I also plan to make Lilly Miller fertilizer out of her!" Joker growled.

The tension in his body created a strange sensation. He could feel his heart beat faster and his breathing was labored. He knew he was that star but he never expected this kind of treatment. The phrase reap what you sow was as foreign to the clown as vegemite was to the Masai tribe.

"How dare they? " Joker demanded.

Batman walked by the room and then stopped.

"Joker?" Batman asked.

"You! Well, I do declare!" The clown replied.

The Dark Knight ran up to the clown. The clown leaned up and kissed the Dark Knight on his cheek. When the clown pulled back, Batman held his hand.

The two had reunited.

"Before I start!" the clown protested before he ran his hand across the other man's face.

"Easy," he pulled the clown closer to him.

Talia was returning with a hot bunch of towels when she saw the two arch enemies. Her eyes widened and she hid quickly, trying to listen in on their conversation. The hate in her heart increased tenfold. She hated herself for intruding on the wrong moment, but she had an intense dislike for the clown even more. Their exchange of words was far too intimate for her to let go but at the same time, she had to listen in on this juicy secret.

* * *

_**Oh my! More jealousy? HA HA! I hope you are enjoying this, dear reader! I've been working at this idea since early 2007. I hope you enjoy it! **_


	49. One Last Chance

Title: One More Chance

Genre: Psychological, noir, action adventure, suspense, thriller, mystery, romance

Synopsis: It all comes together like a Chinese Box.

Archive: Yes, please

Feedback: Sure.

Disclaimer: I do not own. Do not sue. The characters are owned by DC Comics and Warner Brothers. No copyright infringement is intended.

Author's note: I hope you had fun reading this as I did writing it. Please see more at the end of this chapter. Bon appétit!

Recommended reading: "The game we play" Dark Jester, "Throaway Card" Killing Joke, "The Cake Games" by kokoronoitami, "Path of the Jester: Inner Demons" by Jokerlady

_So now that it's over can't we just say goodbye?  
I'd like to move on and make the most of the night  
Maybe a kiss before I leave you this way  
Your lips are so cold I don't know what else to say_

_-Ozzy Osbourne, No More Tears, 1991._

* * *

"You have some damn nerve!" The clown screeched and hissed as he threw a lamp at the other man's direction. Batman's presence was akin to that of showing a red cape in front of a bull. Joker's adrenaline, in spite of the moment they had shared before, was in full swing. His blood was racing and his mind had suppressed the tender thoughts momentarily. All he could think of now were the words BETRAYAL and LIES. It did not bother him because he personified that and at the same time, he crossed that bridge and still got egg on his face. All the negative energy that he once had, and obliterated it, came back to him tenfold.

"Easy…Joker! Jack!" Batman warned as he followed the clown cautiously around the small Bedouin. It was poorly lit with only a small candelabra and a fire overhead that gave them some luminescence. The half truths and mysteries were as frustrating as the lack of light that permeated in this small space. Joker was acting like a feral cat.

"Don't you JACK me, you brute!" Joker snarled. Joker's demeanor was like that of a possum. Joker threw a case full of fruit in Batman's direction but that had the effect of throwing a tomato onto a speeding train. The clown was raging like a wildfire and it was obvious to Batman that words were only futile. He had to SHOW the clown he meant business. He quickly grabbed the clown's skinny wrist and pinned him close to him.

"What are you-?" the clown protested.

"Shut up." The Dark Knight stated simply. "If you are not going to listen to what I say, then I might as well show you AGAIN."

He twirled the clown around like a ballroom dancer and pressed his back onto his stomach. He pressed onto the clown's skinny arms and held him tight. It was more of a possessive kind of squeeze rather than an assuring one. He did not want the clown to wriggle around like a ferret. The Joker did not like it one bit. He let out a small growl and eyed Batman with seething eyes. They were the most beautiful pair of jungle green eyes that he had ever seen. They were acidic, yes, but they were his. They were unique, like a diamond in the rough. The only other person who had that effect was Selina but she was currently unavailable, like a rooster that has gone to roost. This was their moment now and it was their time to share it. What they did not know was that on the other side of the door, a third eye had intruded onto their sacred space.

Talia backed herself up onto the wall and tried to listen to the private conversation that her beloved and the clown were about to share. There was a history between them, yes but there was something else. There was an arrangement between the two that she did not count on. It was an illicit affair, she thought. She felt a little dirty after recollecting that she used the word 'affair'. She did not want to have certain ideas and yet, her mind nagged for her to listen.

"Why should I trust you? You let this all happen!" The clown hissed bitterly.

"For the last time, Jack, that was not me." The Dark Knight said calmly. He said it with a measured tone. It was a desperate attempt to nail it into the clown's brain which was as fluid as jell-o.

"How in the Hell do you expect me to believe that? You said it in public that I was sick! I saw you on the damn television! What am I supposed to think?! Why didn't you do a car giveaway like that talk show host?!" The clown screeched. Batman held onto his arms more tightly which made the jester wince in pain.

"Enough with the monkey business and I am telling you the truth. That was not me who took you to the Asylum. That was Nightwing, dressed up as me!" The detective declared. The clown's eyes widened. His mouth thinned. He gazed up at the other man behind him.

"If that is indeed true, then why did he sound just like you?" The clown shot back. He was trying to cross examine the other man. The bridges were burnt by him and he was building them again. It was the most peculiar thing.

"He only grunted. He probably lowered his voice to coerce you." The Dark Knight responded.

"That is absolute bull caca! I can tell when it is you! You have a certain body language, a tone, a look, something I would have picked it up!" The harlequin replied sharply.

"He is a cop when he is not in costume. He is trained in the arts of being a detective. When you learn the steps it is only natural that step into the role." The Batman said assuredly. The calm tone and conduct made the clown loosen up and in turn made the detective lose his grip slowly but slowly. This was not going to be a fight. The clown noted that the Bat was not protesting too much. There were no desperate jabs at denial, no strange rationalizations. He was consistent.

That would certainly explain why that night when he felt a little off when he heard the 'Batman's words and voice sound a little off and why he….did not talk as much.

"Okay, Sherlock Holmes, riddle me this. Why did you make that comment to the Barbara Walters wannabe? You know the one about me being sick and all that jazz?" The clown glared at the Batman. There was no way he could have gotten out of this.

"It was a distraction." The Dark Knight said bluntly.

"To cover your hide," the jester said sardonically.

"To protect you." The Batman shot back. It was beginning to look like a ping pong game.

"From what?" The clown said sourly. The answer was there but it was beginning to look like a frustrating game of hot and cold.

"From the media glare and other things. It was better to put on the usual show, unless you wanted to end up in the tabloids!" The Dark Knight spat back.

"So your little kid left me at Arkham to rot again so that I can be 'protected'. Is that what you are saying?" The clown's eyes tensed.

"It was better that way than for it to turn into a media circus!" The Batman replied. It was a complex system but ultimately, it had to be done. He had to be Machiavellian but it was for the greater good.

"I know this won't make up for the treatment you received at the Asylum and I just wanted to say, I am sorry." The Batman said finally. It was like a huge weight was being lifted off of his shoulders.

The words were like wind chimes in the Spring. The clown's mind had been rearranged. They were only words but they had the effect of a sledgehammer.

"You know, they put a probe on me…" the clown said darkly.

"Stop it," the other man said softly.

"It's true!" The Joker exclaimed.

The small moment was enough to break the ice. The bridges bonds were strengthening, as well as others.

"If it makes you feel better, I punched him in the face when he confessed the entire thing to me." Batman said warmly.

"You didn't," the jester said in a surprised tone.

"Oh, yes. He knew better than to get involved and well, I was angry." His tone was more human. It was no longer the dark and measured voice of old. He was more….relaxed. He was more comfortable in his own skin and he was sharing that with the clown. The Joker was on it like a cat on a ball of yarn.

"I can't wait to see!" The clown hooted.

"You probably won't today but I made my point clear." The Dark Knight said warmly. The clown savored the tone and conversation like manna and honey.

"So, um, what about your girlfriend, Thunder Thighs?" Batman groaned internally.

"CATwoman is helping, right now." Batman said with the emphasis on the word 'cat'. To the clown, it only reminded him of the competition.

"Really? What is she doing? Making the decorations and hiring strippers?" The clown giggled.

"Jack, be serious. Selina helped me to help you." Batman said warningly.

"Really? And after I gave her my token of affection? Gawsh! I feel the love!" The clown blushed.

"Just be grateful she did in spite of your….views of her." The detective said finally.

"She is only doing this because of you and not because of me. Let's be honest here," the jester said coolly. "If we are going to be a big fat happy family, I want a portrait. She can be in the middle with an apple in her mouth with a slice of squash and lemon on her sides!" The clown giggled again.

"That's enough. I'll be back in a few minutes. You hang tight and if you behave, I'll get you that strawberry alarm clock you were begging for."

"Okay, love. I'll be little Jack Horner. Where is my humble pie?" The clown to himself as put his finger in his mouth.

On that note, the Dark Knight returned to the mayhem. He had one less problem to worry about, at least that is what he thought.

Once she saw that he had disappeared into the darkness, Talia made her presence into the room. She brought a warm batch of towels and a bowl of dates and water for the clown.

"Ooooh, look, daddy's little princess is being nice to me! I feel more spoiled than a Hollywood heiress!" The clown said with glee.

"You need to keep up your strength," Talia said objectively as she set aside the towels and proceeded to give the clown his snack.

"Say, toots, you look awfully familiar? Haven't I seen you around lately?" The clown said while turning his head sideways.

"You challenged my father to a game of chess in the Alps," Talia said sharply.

The jester snapped his fingers.

"That is right! I remember now! Your old man has been around, hasn't he?" The clown nudged.

"My father is a respected figure. His methods are unorthodox but he has his ways." Talia said coolly. She spread some bed sheets and ignored the clown as he made faces behind her back.

The clown nodded while holding his chin with his bony fingers.

"Yes, in spite of his colorful attributes, he makes Stalin look like a saint, yes." The clown prodded on. Talia ignored him. He was like a big child who would not stop.

"But in all seriousness, I know I have seen you somewhere, dear. Oh, yes, I know that face, that body, the hair…" the clown said while he trailed off and studied the woman's soft curves which were hidden gently beneath her white frock and dress.

"I know not of this game, Mister Joker and if you pardon me, I must tend to other more pertinent duties."

"Hold on a second cupcake, I am not finished here. You stand out to me like a genital wart and I will not stop until I get to the bottom of this mystery!" Joker said while giggling lowly to himself. Talia at this time was getting tired of the clown's vulgarities.

"You must be mistaking me for someone else," the daughter of the Demon replied.

"No really? What were you doing at Arkham Asylum? Surely it was not a conjugal visit. I have others that do that for me." The clown said briskly. Talia felt her insides broil. Her cool exterior could only do so much.

"I have had enough of these foolish games," she said darkly. She was leaving but not before she could feel the clown grab her by the arm and pull her close. He towered over her by a good foot. The smell of iodine, dirt and sweat breached her nose.

"But not before you tire of mine…." The clown said warningly before he ran a white hand down her hair, past her face and over her mouth. Talia thought about delivering a swift kick to the groin but it would look as if she attacked first. She did not want to get under the Bat's bad graces, not yet.

The clown studied her features. The almond shaped eyes bespoke a beauty from a foreign land. He thought of an oasis, magic carpets and camel dung as he did so. There was something else, something perverse and forbidden. Her scent, it was a perfume that took him back into a time and place not that long ago. It was tea leaf extract and cocoa butter. It was a spice. His mind took him back to the emergency room where they performed the procedures he wished to forget.

Talia eyed him defiantly. She held her grown but the clown was digging into her like a rabbit in a vegetable garden.

He placed his hand over her face and covered her mouth and nose. Talia breathed in more deeply. He was not exactly asphyxiating her but at the same time, his grip was firm. She did not want to struggle just yet because she wanted to get the clown at the right direction. If Batman was not here, she would have attacked a long time ago. It was like almost playing the waiting game.

At that point, the clown smiled and let her go.

"So you are the one that gave me the medicine at Arkham, didn't you?" the clown said snidely.

"Just be grateful I made the pain stop," Talia said darkly as she made her way to the door.

"Oh I am not thanking you for giving me something better than morphine, dear. I am thanking you for something else…" The clown said as he removed himself from his torn yellow shirt and jacket. He was in his trousers about to apply a hot towel.

Talia looked back and gave the clown a dirty look.

"….for confirming my suspicions." The clown said proudly. So he knew, he was just bidding his time. He was a manipulative monster.

"Excuse me?" she queried.

The Joker scoffed.

"Don't play dumb, my pretty. It was all there. Why how could I miss those eyes which are as dark as a camel's hooves or that smell." Joker sniffed her hair once again. Talia shuddered at the clown's proximity to her being.

"That smell of paradise…." The Joker said warmly.

Talia pushed him away.

"So you knew. When did you know?" Talia said darkly. The clown grinned.

"The moment I called you a 'cunt'," he said with a voice full of pride.

Talia frowned. The clown's filthy mouth was one thing, but his clever behavior was something else.

"Why did you do it, Elektra? You know, daddy bats isn't going to like this when he finds out…" the clown cooed.

"My father's orders," Talia began.

"That is what Heinrich Himmler said. You are going to have to come up with a better excuse than that!" The clown yawned.

"It was a request."

"For what?" The clown demanded.

"My hand in marriage." Talia stated simply.

"And what do I have to do with it?" the clown said simply.

"You were in the way."

"Then why did you stop the bleeding?" The Joker said dismally.

"Change of plans thanks to certain other individuals who got in the way. My father wanted to savor the moment. He knew Batman would never kill you so he offered that favor to your friends." Talia said sharply. She grabbed onto the dagger that was close to her dress. A jab at the heart was not appropriate now, for his forearm could block her.

It was all falling down like bricks. The clown smile and nodded.

"I see. So I am the golden goose in this big charade?" The clown marveled.

"Unfortunately," she said bitterly. She began to clean another dirty dagger with the water and paper.

The clown eyed her with a sardonic fashion. His target had gone from the Cat to her.

"So you are doing daddy's dirty work hands on because of little old me?" The clown pointed at himself.

"This is what he would have wanted. I am not deviating from that."

"Yeah, yeah, we know the excuses, dear but seriously, do I bother you that much? How can you say I am worst off than you and daddy when you two are no different? The only thing you two use is an outdated philosophy that died in the Shang Dynasty whereas myself, I take pride in only one God, me." The clown said snidely. "Really, dear, you are no different than the religious fanatics who use the Bible for their own agenda. And they call me the delusional one." The clown cackled.

Talia turned back and covered herself.

"You underestimate the powers of my Father," Talia said bitterly.

"Oh, please. Your daddy has an over inflated sense of false security. If he indeed was sure of himself, why all these little clubs that he has? Furthermore, why did he abandon you again? I thought Harley had daddy issues. I was wrong, it seems…" the jester said in a voice laced with pride.

Talia's training was now as delicate as a flower in the wind. The clown had uncovered all the plans in front of her and even kept some secrets at bay. He was almost supernatural. Her father had mentioned the clown's prowess and even hinted that he was immortal and that he was not of flesh and bone. As she clearly saw, that was not the case. Now, here she was in front of the jester from Hell. The only thing on her side was that she had Assassin training.

"Face it, dear. You were nothing more than a one night stand in the desert. If Bats had his way, he will always come back to me. If he had to choose between you and me, we both know that I take priority." The clown hissed. Talia's mindset was being rattled. She hated how the clown was pushing these filthy thoughts into her head. She did not want to attack just yet. The last thing she wanted to do was to make it look like assault. The clown deserved every cut, bruise and broken bone that was coming to him, but not yet, she thought, not yet.

"I have had enough of your filthy mouth!" Talia said warningly. "I'll deal with you later!" She stated angrily before she turned around. The clown gazed at her.

"Excuse me, but did I dismiss you? I am the guest of honor…" the jester said sweetly.

"I don't heed your orders, clown!" Talia spat back.

The Joker grabbed onto some hot sand that was beneath a low hanging lamp.

"Oh, but I insist!" The clown said before throwing the hot grains of sand at Talia's back. The thin fabric was burnt slightly but the bits that landed on her arm made her fall to the ground. Like a wind scorpion, he attacked.

The clown walked up and kicked her in the stomach.

"You call yourself a trained assassin and yet you did not see that one coming!" The clown laughed. Talia grabbed at his ankle and twisted it. She made the clown lose balance and he fell down beside her. Scrambling, she crawled away as fast as she could but the clown grabbed her by the foot. She began to kick violently which was futile as it only made the clown angrier. He grabbed a stone and smashed it on her calf. Talia let out a scream. It's sharp and jagged edges pierced at her skin. She was losing precious seconds that she could have used on the clown. The Joker punched her in the face which made her lose her concentration for a few nanoseconds. As the clown was ready to deliver another blow, she aimed her knee at his privates and with the precision of a neurosurgeon, she aimed and flipped. The clown got up and held his sex and concentrated on making the pain go away. Talia took the initiative and banged the clown's head with a silver platter. The clown fell to the ground. He held his face and groin when she was coming closer. The clown his face as Talia continued coming closer. It was at that point when she realized it was too late when she saw the clown's face and he hoisted himself up on his arms and aimed a kick at her stomach. Talia landed on her thighs and knees. Not enough to knock her out completely but it was a strong blow. Talia wiped her face of what she thought was sweat but in actuality, it was blood. The clown got up and ran towards her. He pinned her down. His weight felt like a ton. It was a bit of a challenge for Talia and she had to make use of other resources. She slapped the clown's face but it was not enough. The clown only took a strong chokehold on her. She could feel her neck muscles clench as he did so.

"Harley as a bad girl when she didn't do what HER daddy said," the green haired man said darkly as he added more pressure to the grip. Talia took the initiative and poked her fingers onto the clown's eyes. The clown leaned back and walked backwards for a bit. Talia stood up and grabbed another empty bowl. She was ready to smash his brains in.

It was then that she noted a fatal mistake. There was a gun settled there and the clown reached for it. It must have been a lazy henchman's, she thought. The clown aimed and shot at Talia, leaving a bloody scrape on her arm. She let out a yell.

The clown let out a low sinister laugh. It was enough to make the Devil himself quiver.

Talia held onto the wound and she huddled to a corner. The clown kicked her in the chin. She fell down again. He pulled her at her collar. His face was a grinning mask of death. It surprised even her that only a few minutes ago, he was as calm as a pussycat in Batman's presence.

"Wanna know how I got these scars?" The clown began as he pointed to the evidence of violence on his body.

"It's because wenches like you don't know their place…" the clown said darkly. He was about to deliver another blow to Talia's face before she spat back as a result. The clown wiped away the saliva from his face. She leapt at him and pinned him to the floor. He pulled at her hair and yielded her until he was on top of her. Joker reached down her dress beneath her breasts and stomach and pulled out the dagger. Talia looked ahead and saw the gun in the clown's pants pocket. She only needed a few centimeters to reach it but time was not with her. At the same time, she gripped as hard as she could onto his throat. She could feel life pulse underneath her hands and she wanted to snip it like the Fates. Tonight, she was Atropos.

"You have such a pretty throat. Too bad I am going to have to slice it up. I might just as well teach you a lesson. Don't ever mess with the clown, dear. It only ends badly." The Joker said warningly. "And never mess with the hair. It is impolite." The Joker was about to carve her throat before a shot rang out and made him tense up.

He had been shot on the kidney. He was bleeding out. The clown rolled over onto his back. He writhed and groaned in pain. There was a black hole on his side that was smeared with crimson. It was leaking out. The clown lay there in pain. He was dying from the fatal wound. It looked as if death was leaving its host's body.

Talia looked down at the clown. She had just slain the Dragon.

"It tickles…" Joker coughed. "At least I know I will die with a smile……" the clown said on his final breath. Within seconds, his chest stopped heaving. Talia looked down at the clown. She stood there for a few seconds. She heard some footsteps.

It was Batman. While she had helped him by adding men to the combat outside, she delivered a blow in private.

"Talia, they are here. You better-"

He saw her standing over him, looking solemn. It was when Batman registered what Talia was looking at that he kneeled down. From the initial glance, it was obvious that the clown was dead. He looked like a cod at the market. He looked like one of his trademark fish which made the moment poignant.

"Talia, what happened?" Batman asked her in the calmest manner he could muster.

"There was a scuffle." Talia stated simply.

"There was no scuffle. He is dead." The Dark Knight bellowed at her.

"He attacked. I responded."

"By killing him?" The Batman pressed on.

"I had no choice beloved. The man was an animal." Talia stated simple as she wiped the blood off her dress. Batman could see that she also had a gunshot wound. Hers was not fresh. His was.

The Batman knelt down at the clown's body and held his head. He closed the Joker's eyes so that he would look like he was sleeping instead of a prize pick at a slaughterhouse.

Batman felt the clown's neck. There was no pulse and the gunshot was probably what did him in.

"An eye for an eye," Talia said simply.

"What is that supposed to mean?" The Dark Knight said brusquely.

"He shot your protégé, Batgirl in the spine, did he not? It was only a matter of time before that clown got what he had coming to him. The Hindus call it karma, is it not?" Talia stated in a matter of fact fashion.

"That does not mean it is the right way, Talia." Batman stated simply. He petted the clown's chest and arms. Talia cringed. She wanted to flush down the thoughts like water in a desert.

"Either way, Batman, the clown could not be saved." She said darkly. She held the knife close to her. "He was human, like you and me, except he embodied the worst examples of human nature." She said nonchalantly.

"You do not know that." Batman said cryptically. Talia did not want to go deeper.

"As I said, Batman, it was only a matter of time before the clown would perish. He had too much against him." Talia stated simply. She applied some cleaning material and water to her wound.

"He was okay when I left him. What happened in between that time?" Batman demanded.

"He attacked me," Talia said swiftly.

"That's not enough, something else happened. Otherwise he would not have gotten this wound that killed him." The Batman pressed on. Talia stopped momentarily.

For Talia, being called a killer was no different than being called a common whore. They were words that rolled off her back but the word coming from someone she loved, well, that was like putting salt into her scars.

"If it was not going to be me, it would have been my father, the Scarecrow or the others, Batman. To think that the clown would live forever is delusional thinking." Talia al Ghul said darkly. She was so blunt about it but at the same time, she skirted around the issue. The Dark Knight wanted to press on but she would only clam up. All women had their secrets and this was Talia's and yet, he knew the real answer. Did it really count as a secret then?

"I understand that he had something wrong with him before all this." Talia stated simply.

"Yes, he did." Batman replied.

"If it was not my Father, Bruce, it would have been that. It is also possible that he had cardiac arrest while he and I combated."

It was less painful to believe that he went under some sort of heart attack while they fought but the fact of the matter was that Talia induced it. Furthermore, he gave her no authority to be around the Joker. He was dangerous and it was only in Talia's safety and best interest that she defends herself.

"Did he ever make a promise to you that he would mend his ways? A leopard does not change his spots beloved. He hurt me and I returned the favor. It was the only way."

"Get out," Batman said finally. Talia turned back and acquiesced to his wishes.

"Self defense is not murder, beloved." She kissed the Dark Knight on the chin and left the two to their much deserved privacy.

* * *

The media was going wild with the news of a bust that involved Arkham's finest. Talia Head's involvement was like the secret sauce that made the meal extra juicy. The only good thing that it did was that it distracted from the real issue at hand. Bruce was allowed his privacy back but in his heart, it tugged at him like Jacob Marley's chains.

When all was said and done that night, everyone was arrested. The guest stars of Arkham were in a temporary holding place that made Guantanamo Bay look like a resort and casino. He also had a little help from friends such as Selina, Dick, Tim, Helena, Barbara, Diana, Dinah, even Talia. The last one was especially bittersweet. It was a secret he would carry with the rest of the others. It was like a really bad dream he wanted to wake up from. He was recollecting the moments he had heard Diana speaking to him.

Dear, sweet Diana. Her maternal care was second to none. She saw the positive even in the ugliest things but she was not naïve. She made a comment about how everything had its place. She was spiritual in her own way. She was a Goddess of course, but her human connections were magical. If Diana had anything to say about people like the Joker, she would say that we are all by nature, innocent, it is just that some of us choose the wrong path. Some people were nothing more than icons for whatever that vice was. To her, no one is immune from the Fates and everyone will meet Atropos at the end, no matter how advanced Earthly western medicine is. Diana's only solace was that everything was planned. If that is true, was Barbara's spine accident a will of the gods? Was all this a gambling game made between them? Everything was like a mosaic. Even tears had their place. Although Batman himself was allergic to Boethian philosophy, even Diana knew when to back off. Her last words to him that night before they all departed were 'It is only my path, Bruce. I am only sharing it with you, not imposing on it.' Like an Earth Mother, Diana believed in rejuvenation. It was a promising way of thinking but it was too cotton candy and puppies for him.

Talia was blunt. Her philosophy resembled the I-Ching. If it was not going to be her to deliver the fatal blow, someone else would have.

"Sir?" Alfred said as he saw his Master get up from the chair. He had too much of GNN this evening.

"Wait me up, Alfred," Bruce said as he noted the chicken sandwich on rye bread.


	50. Epilogue

Six months later……

Batman overlooked the city like a Dark Guardian. It was the stuff that mythology was made up of. The hollow wind whistled in the evening sky. The surroundings reflected a calm winter night but within his soul, it was as if Armageddon was taking place.

"You okay?" A familiar voice piped up. Batman turned back.

It was Catwoman, limber as ever. She leapt down from another ledge.

"How is your arm?" The Dark Knight asked her.

"It's not one hundred percent there but I can get the hang of it. I have been doing some arm exercises to keep the pain away." Catwoman replied. Truth be told, this was only small talk and it was annoying her.

"How are you feeling'?" Catwoman walked up behind him.

The Dark Knight just nodded. He did not feel. He just saw.

"You can't keep that stuff bottled up, Bruce. I saw some of it. If you want to get the healing process started, that won't help." Selina started. She grabbed a rock and tossed it over.

"Bruce", she said. She wanted the human connection, not the work one. She wanted to get to that delicate layer that he stubbornly inhibited for the sake of his ego. Now was not the time for that.

The Batman turned to her. There was no use in hiding things from her. She saw it all, she knew about the living arrangement. To her credit, she did not overreact like Dick did and she did keep her distance. It was always one of those things that he admired in her.

"Why did you lie to me?" Selina started. She wanted to get to the point. There was no use in pussyfooting around.

"I didn't lie." Bruce said in a stony manner.

"Then how long were you going to keep this secret?" Selina pressed on. She crossed her arms, looking like a stern mother. Bruce ignored her from the side.

"Until I got to the bottom of this," the Batman stated simply.

"You were not going to get to the bottom of it," Selina Kyle hissed.

"Excuse me?" Bruce replied sourly. How dare she challenge him? Who was she to question his motives?

"You were going to hide it until you could sweep it under the rug. Bruce, this is not on the same level as being thirteen years old and hiding girlie magazines." Selina shouted. She pressed her hands into her head.

"Bruce, you had a psychopath in your hands and did you think you could whisk it away?" To Selina, it was like being a Muslim teaching a Hindu about Allah in Jaipur.

"Selina, it was complicated…" Bruce stated simply.

"That's what they all say…" Selina said sourly. She caught herself being a little too rough. This was not going to be a fight. She came here because she wanted to make peace with what happened. Well, that and give Bruce a piece of her mind. She had helped him and inadvertently, she got caught up in this spider web she had no intention of joining in the first place. This was not the time to kick Bruce but she would have been lying if she said that she did not feel like clawing his eyes out.

"Where is the Joker?" Selina asked.

"He is buried beneath a funhouse." Bruce stated simply.

"The one close to Fourth and Bronson?" Selina asked.

"That is his secret. I wouldn't want you sneaking into his crypt and stealing something."

It was a cheap joke. How very cute. Truth be told, she wanted to find out about the offshore stocks that the clown had. In the wake of his death, it had been revealed that he had many a connection and that he was not a dirty, ratty psychopath but a man who thought, breathed and lived like anyone else. Rumor was that he had exquisite fashion taste and he flushed down more money down the toilet than Hugh Hefner went through girls. Except that he had a fetish for killing.

He could have been buried one of the many old parks and funhouses across the city.

"Arkham is being rebuilt and he hated that place." Bruce said finally. "He saw it as nothing more than a public urinal, not a hotel as the press liked to tell that story." Selina nodded.

She recalled the nasty encounter they had at the Batcave. Clownie had skills, she thought but that did not mean that she admired him. Bottom line was that he was still a monster.

"What about his girlfriend? What is going to happen to her?" Selina asked.

"Harley Quinn volunteered to help and in return I will be making sure that she is provided for at Arkham Asylum. My ultimate goal is to make sure she has a steady life after she has completed rehab."

Selina nodded.

"I failed, Selina." Bruce said suddenly.

"What?" Selina leaned closer to him. She could see that he was in a deep depression.

"Selina I failed and because of that, a life was lost." Bruce declared. "WHAT WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO?!?! I MISSED IT BY SECONDS!!!!!!" Bruce bellowed.

Selina nodded and stood aback. It was the most emotional that she had seen in him.

At this point, Bruce landed a punch onto the stone ledge. He created a crack. Selina kept her ground. Bruce knelt down onto his knees. If she did not know better, she would have thought that those deep breaths were poorly disguised sobs.

"I COULD HAVE SAVED HIM! I WAS SO CLOSE BUT I CHOSE TO DEAL WITH ONE OF RAS' GUARDS WHEN SOMETHING THAT HAD MORE IMPORTANCE SLIPPED AWAY!" Bruce covered his face with his hands. Deep breaths were making a haunting sound. It was repressed violence, or what Bruce really wanted to do. It sounded like a dragon breathing fire. The passion, the vulnerability, the emotion, she was witnessing a rare spectacle that only she had the privilege of seeing. She knelt down beside him.

"Bruce, wait. Just breathe…" she said solemnly.

"I could have stopped it." Bruce said bleakly.

"No, it was inevitable." Selina pressed on.

"I could have stayed…"

"No, not that. What I meant to say was that his death, any death was inevitable. We have the most sophisticated technology and the Towers were still knocked down. Bruce, you can't prevent anything like that." Selina said assuredly.

Bruce looked at her. Her answer was decidedly prophetic and at the same time, it was common sense. He just could not divorce his emotions from the whole spectacle. He wanted to repress those memories and bury them, like Joker's corpse. He could smell the filth of those thoughts. Why did she have to get involved? It would have been more painful had she not been here. But still, she was making the effort now. While everyone else was ignoring him, she was still there.

Selina was his anchor, she was his guiding light now.

"Bruce, he was never going to change. Even the most well trained animals will attack their trainers. It's been proven and documented." Selina said in a calm manner.

"You weren't there. How did you know?" Bruce shot back. She was not there when he and the Joker exchanged and intimate encounter. She was not there when they bonded. Was she speaking out of jealousy? Were she and Talia on the same plane for once? What right did she have to criticize?

"Because…it is only human nature that he would go back to who he was. He was not a kitten, Bruce. Even his colleagues hated him," Catwoman replied. Her sea green eyes bespoke tender emotion. She did not want to be blunt but she had to hammer the nail into the coffin, so to speak. He was a waste of emotions and he did not know how to express them. Bruce was never the most loquacious person so it was only natural that she had to drag out the words out of him. It did help a lot that he admitted that bit.

"Bruce, wanting to believe the clown was going to change is like wanting to believe your parents will come back every night you put on the cowl. Maybe they won't but you do make a difference. It's not the same with him." Selina said somberly. Truth be told, she wanted to tell him he was delusional but that would be like kicking someone to the ground.

"I just wish I knew that I made a difference in someone's life," Bruce started. Selina smiled in response.

"You already did." She held his hand and gripped it firmly.

He looked into her face. Her fine bone structure and genteel beauty was a contrast to her tough exterior. He ran his hand across her face. Selina may have been stubborn to a fault, but she was consistent. She was talking to him while everyone else ignored him as if he had leprosy.

"Whatever you two had, that is your business." Selina stated. That was all that she could do. That was all that she could say. She knew privacy was a sacred commandment for Bruce and she did not want to push the subject, especially now.

That was all that there needed to be. Selina knew when to back off and at the same time, she knew the right moments when to get involved. She was his guardian angel now. If she was not, Bruce would have pushed her away. From what she could understand, even Talia was keeping her distance and that was saying something.

"So you are not bothered? Selina, I kept things from you, I ignored you, and I did not take you seriously enough because of….things." Bruce said before he caught himself sounding like a school boy.

"I'd be lying if I said that this whole arrangement did not bother me, but even then, it's not that." Selina said firmly. "It's that you had to hide something like this from me and you bit off more than you could chew." Dick and Tim were not on speaking terms with him at the moment and Oracle wanted to stay away while she collected herself. Whether or not she had as much intimate knowledge of the whole mess like Selina and Dick did, Bruce did not want to know.

Bruce reflected on the extra help. He did not ask for it and yet, they showered him with it. While he was focusing on one person almost selfishly, they were helping him track down Ras and hindering his plans. They were throwing stones and monkey wrenches into his plans.

In short, they were helping him and he ignored it. It was another kick in the stomach. He was being ungrateful when they tried to help and all he could see was them meddling. Stupid, ungrateful fool. This was not the first time Bruce's own plans had backfired on him. Once, he kept tabs on the JLA and they all found out about it. This was when Ras al Ghul had sent the language scrambler in the city. While Diana, John, Wally, Kyle and Clark were trying to stop Ras al Ghul, he was spying on them as if they were the real enemy and he was the one that pushed them away. Not even Robin and Oracle were immune from his actions. Was it worth hurting his friends like this? Himself, even?

"Why?" Bruce asked. His throat was parched. Everything had been set up like a house of cards and they all came down. Had he brought it upon himself when he took on this task? Happy endings only existed in fairy tales. In a trial such as the one he had seen, there were going to be sacrifices. Still, he repeated the tape in his head, trying to find fault and displace where he had failed but he could not.

"Because we admire and love you, silly." Selina said before she kissed Bruce. "That was me making up for cutting it short the last time." He reached out to her in again and she did not resist. He needed the warmth and light and she provided it. Her beautiful green eyes were bittersweet as it reminded of what had just passed but it also reminded him of what could be.

"I did notice that he never ousted you. I don't know what to think. It says quite a bit. It says that he was willing to preserve whatever it was that you two had. That caught me by surprise, I must admit." Catwoman said mildly. Joker may have been insane but if he was by definition, he would not have been functional.

It was like a breath of fresh air when she said that.

"Then again, Ras al Ghul did something similar. There was a code of honor. Just because he did that does not undo the atrocities he committed." Selina added.

Bruce chose to ignore the last part. He knew Selina did that because she rubbed off on him. The eternal pessimism that he once personified was having an affect on other people. It was the price he paid for projecting the grim reality he held close to heart like a devout Catholic did to a rosary. But then, that kiss, those moments, those were real too. He could not describe that to Selina. It was like tasting a meal that she had never or ever will try. All this time, he had repressed those painful memories and hidden them away, like a buried secret. This was the first time he had openly talked about things since that day. He blocked out those memories. The experience of losing his parents gave him the worst case of post traumatic stress disorder that still affected him to this day. The loss of the Joker was a double edged sword. While some people drink themselves into a stupor and go into a deep psychosis to escape their pains, others turn the other way and become more neurotic.

Bruce had shut down. Talking about it now was basically revisiting old wounds. Why did Selina want him to revisit that?

He stood a better chance making peace between the Israelites and Palestine than making her see things his way.

In the process of crossing a bridge, he lost contact with the only family he knew and she was still his lifeline not out of necessity, but because she **chose** to. The desire had overridden the need. That was commendable. In the same vein, while making a contact with enemy, he lost a lover and that was only because she was doing the right thing: trying to survive. Wouldn't anyone who was in Talia's place done the same thing? Selina would have. Would she have stuck a knife in Joker's liver and kidney. That was not out of the question, Bruce thought. He did not want to repeat the "K" word in his mind, not even remotely. It had the mental effect of passing by a hot cauldron without any protection.

This whole thing had the complexity of a Rubik's cube. The Joker was the ultimate Riddle of the Sphinx.

"It was only natural that he return to his natural state. He was not going to be that way around you." Selina said in a maternal fashion. "He obviously held you in high regard, in his own perverse way. I could never touch that." Selina said while maintaining her own pride. The very thought of being in the same plane as the clown made her skin crawl but she could not disqualify the history the two of them had, add to the fact that they had a living arrangement she did not agree with, it was like describing music to a deaf person. At the same time, she did not want to know. It was dangerous territory because it involved Bruce's private space. She herself had been privy to many an intimate moment and she would be lying if this blow did not affect her. Ultimately, she was proven right: the leopard did not change its stripes and even if a disease or she didn't end his lifeline, someone else did.

Even if none of this had happened, Bruce would have still been affected by the clown's demise whether or not Talia killed him.

"I heard there is a bust near Mason and Westwood, you wanna join me?" Selina replied. "Of course, if you want to-" He shushed her. If anything, it was work that got his mind of out any wreck and the last thing he wanted to do was to sulk and home also, she was offering solace and peace like God to Adam in the fresco by Michelangelo. Batman pulled out his grapple and shot it into the night sky. Catwoman followed him.

Clickety clack replied the rain.

The rain did little to deter the restlessness in his heart. The trickles that usually brought forth a pang of sleep and invited one to the covers only made him even more restless tonight. They were as loud as drums. On the outside, it was the noisy rain that which prevented him from sleeping but it was really his psychosomatic reactions that kept him awake.

He rewound the images in his head over and over again.

It was like a repetition of his parents dying. At best it was displacement and at worst, it was a small case of denial. Bruce had not taken the time to fully envelop his mind around the events. He distracted himself by stopping crime wherever it cropped. Like weeds, they would appear and what was once something he considered a bit of a nuisance, it was a mental exercise that kept him from drowning his sorrows into something far worst. Some people used alcohol to get rid of the pain that plagued their mental processes. Others turned to drugs or a warm body for the night.

For Bruce, it was crime fighting. It had become a substitute for what raged in his heart. To him, feelings were powerful but disposable. This was not the first time he encountered heartbreak. When he lost his parents as a child, it only prepared him for the mountains and valleys that are part of life. This recent turn of events reminded him of that mess. Yes, he was invested emotionally, and yes, he wanted some good and change out of this. Yes, he wanted to think that he had it under control but once again, this whole thing reminded him as to why he stayed away from committed relationships and why he chose not to obsess over it after it was all said and done. He figured that Ras was involved. Why else would Talia be there? Why couldn't the two things be separate? Why did one have to cross over into the other? Not until tonight, did the question breach Bruce's mind. It was like putting fire under someone's seat and it reminded him why he chose to ignore emotions and sentiments and go with cold logic. At least it was always linear. Feelings, not so much. Feelings were unpredictable, they were fluid. They could not take shape. You could not control them. It was not uncommon for survivors of Holocaust camps to shut down after seeing the atrocities they witnessed. This was no different.

The thing with the Joker began as an unsteady alliance. It involved into something more…personal. It turned into a friendly rivalry, a brotherhood and finally, something intimate that no one else could understand except for the two people involved.

Sure, people could understand what love was. It was when you connected to someone else. It was when you showed concern for their goals and ideals.

Love was when you were not selfish and that you cared for another. But that was a long time ago, seconds turned into minutes which became hours that dissolved into days, weeks and finally, months. It was something that faded, like a feather in the wind. It was like tasting a crepe' in Paris in the springtime. It was beautiful but not forgotten.

Bruce was not selfish. He tried to convince himself that he was only concerned with the Joker's welfare but that stopped when the Joker presented him with the ultimate human act of personal connection, a kiss.

He could still feel the clown's skin pressed against his own. He could still feel that passion radiate through his lips and that soft velvety touch of his hand. He remembers that moment being suspended between work and more work. It made him forget about his complex life. It made him untangle the web in his mind and for once, he could feel like he could breathe again. For a little while it felt as if all the problems were solved by Joker's hand. It was wishful thinking, sure but it was no different than having your face touch by a breeze of wind in a hot, humid climate.

Then again, this was the Joker, not a house pet. Change was a constant. It did not stop. Was it naïve to think that he would change? He demonstrated that when he attacked Selina and almost killed Talia. He was not above hurting Dick either.

Was the connection with the Joker staged? He never made a promise to not kill and yet, he made damn sure to hurt people that were close to him. It was as if none of what happened between them had ever occurred. It was as if the clown had never changed.

Was thinking that the Joker could reform being delusional in it of himself? The Joker was no innocent kitten but that did not mean he deserved the treatment he got especially over something he was not guilty of. He remembered the time when he was accused of circulating the poisoned stamps from "The Great Comedians" series. He was the usual suspect and deserved everything he had coming to him but that was not justice, that was retribution. That was exploitation and that was selfish even if it meant one less worry to think about. That was not done out of love but for concern. His first love was Lady Justice and she was an ungrateful bitch.

It had become so complicated and all he wanted to do was to save the Joker and figure out the whole mess. Fact collided with feeling and emotion overtook caution. Joker helped him undo that and at the same time, he was as dangerous as a rattlesnake.

He also felt like he could breathe again.

He suddenly yearned for the Joker's voice in his ear. He remembered the soft purr. He recalled the throaty approval cooing in his ear and begging him to unwind. He remembered letting his muscles contract and relax under the Joker's spell.

On one hand, the Joker's change in attitude was like the long awaited break that he needed and craved. It was a sign that it was going to get better and that he had a small victory.

It was moments like that which reminded him why he continued to do what he did, to sacrifice what he did night after night. It was moments like that that reminded him why it was all worth it, why he did what he did in spite of the odds. It may not have been the cure to cancer nor did it stop world hunger but one bit, one chance at a positive and making a small difference, which was like manna to him.

Bruce washed his face, hoping that the cold water would snap his mindset from the annoying thought processes. It was a tape he could not help but to rewind time and time again. This is why he hated sleep and preferred to distract himself with midnight patrols. At least then he could have something to focus on. When he was by himself, and in his most sacred and private quarters, that was when the monsters would come up and wrestle with his psyche. Like harpies, the screeched for acknowledgement. They were like a computer virus that would encrypt themselves no matter how many times he applied a panacea for them. That was why romance had no place in his heart but being human can do that. He let himself slip up.

On one hand, perhaps his lack of enthusiasm for the Joker, well, compared to him, was a successful mechanism because deep down inside, he knew that the Joker could not change. Just because a snake is relaxing on a branch does not undo the fact that it was a predator. You can train an animal to do all these tricks but that doesn't change the fact that they were still wild beasts. If that was indeed true, that ultimately, Joker had not changed, why did it affect him still? He hurt Selina, he was about to kill Talia and of course, he made it so that Harley Quinn was clinically dead at Arkham's doorstep. A clown is still a clown even if he takes off his clothes. To the Joker, they were disposable. Only he mattered. They were mere stepping stones to what he considered his most personal prize. They were mere objects to him. Only he and the Batman counted. He did not hurt Bruce directly but harming those he cared about were a sin unto their own. At worst, Joker's stay over only delayed his natural urges. Was it naïve to think he would stop if he stayed in Batcave? He made no qualms about Dick, Tim or Barbara. His only investment was in him and him alone.

Did the Joker change or did he want Bruce to think that he changed?

Joker may have been guilty of harming people he cared about but that did not undo that fact that he helped Bruce learn some things about himself. Even if he was a psychopath who by clinical definition was immune to remorse and feeling, he helped make an emotional connection with Bruce and he died trying to prove that to Talia.

Bruce shut his eyes. The harlequin in his mind was laying his sins bare. He was calling him a failure and this hurt more than receiving a deep gash from one of his razor cards.

He failed. Those words stung. It said that he was useless and no good. This was not failing a paper on biology. A life was lost and while Gotham was celebrating, Bruce could not bring himself. If they only knew what Hell that was.

"I'm sorry, Joker…"

"Get up," That was what the clown would say. "I can't stand seeing you like this. That's not the Dark Knight I know…" Bruce could still hear the clown's voice in his head.

Everyone was locked up and the responsible parties were under investigation. Talia Head was in some minor federal trouble but like a snake, she could squirm her way out of it and even then, it was not that which caused trouble in his spirits. There was an air of unresolved issues and Joker's presence in his heart was a promising end to that.

"I failed you, Joker," Bruce stated simply. It felt like a half confession. His mind was convoluted.

_"Bats, it's only YOU that had any significance. They all don't count. They are nothing but mere hour d'ourves, them and all of Gotham. I have stated it time and time again, only you and I count."_

Joker was true to his word. Bruce did not want to admit it because it meant questioning his own code and that meant defeat.

"You can take the clown out of Arkham but you cannot take the Arkham out of the clown." Joker stated simply.

Truer words were never spoken but Bruce could still not wrap his mind around it.

"How could such a beautiful creature like yourself do such awful things?" Bruce thought.

Joker going back to his old ways was like a lion reacting to a natural act. Joker was Joker, not a housecat to be trained. Perhaps what shook Bruce was that ultimately, Joker was no different than Selina or Talia, the latter was just as guilty as her father in regards to megalomania and yet, there was still a nugget that cared for her. That did not undo the atrocities that she was guilty of but his feelings for her were as real as the droplets running down the window sill. Selina also had her own moral code but that did not mean that their liaisons were nonexistent. On the contrary, he thought very highly of Catwoman.

A tiger was a beautiful animal, even if it was a hunter. They also made wonderful parents and nurtured their cubs. Joker nurtured that emotional bond. What he had done before had taken a backseat. That was not important when they exchanged intimacy.

Bruce eyes shifted to a vase. It was full of flowers in a healthy bloom. There was a rose in the middle. The petals were connected but shifted in slight positions. Batman's relationship with the Joker was complex like the rose. Each petal represented a metamorphosis and stage in their bond.

Love was something that only two people could share. This was not something that Selina, Dick, Tim or Talia could breach or understand. To him, Bruce was his and his alone. It was only between them that could understand the complexities and subtleties of their symbiosis.

A petal fell off. It had begun to wilt and although it will shrivel up and die, its beauty will not have been forgotten.

_~*WR*~_

ETA: I wrote this after some consideration. I have been told by people that they did not like the ending for various reasons, one of them being that because I did not focus on Bruce angsting. After rereading the last part, I decided to make some changes. I personally thought I wrote adequate emotion in January when I wrote the last piece. The last thing I wanted to do was write Bruce was an emotional wreck cutting himself. That doesn't work that way as I will explain further down. Additionally, I wrote a 'what if' scenario called** Elseworld: One Last Chance**. I chose this ending because it seemed the most natural, fitting and logical one. I chose it in 2007 and I would have gotten to it sooner but I had real life issues to deal with that slowed me down. I would also like to take the opportunity to explain and call out some readers at a livejournal comm that complained that I didnt end the story to their liking. There is a reason for that. It's called characterization and character development. If someone attacks Talia, you are not gonna get away alive. I chose this ending because it made the most sense.

I want to take the time to point out that I wrote a 'What if' scenario. It's not a sequel but think of it as an extra Easter egg in a DVD. What if Joker had lived? I originally was going to leave OMC alone after last year but I decided to write Elseworld as a challenge. I prefer to think of OMC as having an ambiguous ending. If this one wasn't to your liking, I would hope that I made the effort in **Elseworlds: One Last Chance.**

I decided to cut the last two chapters in half for two reasons, number one being that they expressed two themes and so I had to cut it down and secondly, I wanted to reach the magic number 50. I added some extra sauce.

_End note: I had a reader tell me that they thought I did not capture Bruce's inner turmoil after the events in the last chapter, One Last Chance. They thought I did not go deep into it. There is a reason for that. Bruce never came across as someone who would wallow in their misery and emo out. At best, he subjugates that pain while he does something else to distract him. He has demonstrated this lot of times such as "Avatar" in Batman the animated series, Batman: Mask of the Phantasm, Batman Returns, Hush and a whole host of other appearances in various media. I'm sorry, but I could not write twenty pages of angst because I felt I said enough. To me, it would be out of character if he did cry and hide and stop being the Dark Knight. This is not the first time he has experienced tragedy and backstabbing. I needed Selina to give him some motivation, at least some because she at least demonstrates that one kindle of hope to him which is why I did not focus on the emotional turmoil that I guess some people wanted to see. I have given enough of that in the whole of the fic. I did not want to saturate it with that in the end. I hope this answered some of your questions or at least satisfies that hunger. Peace and adieu, WR. Thank you for reading. This is the OFFICIAL end to OMC. I was originally going to make it a semi sequel but then I changed my mind. Thank you for reading. This journey started on November 11, 2006 and ended on March 1, 2010. Thank you all for hanging in there. I hope this helps. _

_~*WR*~_


End file.
